


Heart Beats Like a Bullet

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 300: Rise of an Empire Inspired, Alternate Universe - Asgard, Alternate Universe - Human, Asgardian Natasha, Complete, Dog of War!Natasha, F/M, Fairy Tale inspired, Femdom, Jötunn Loki, King Loki, Mile High Club, Multiple Universes, Porn With Plot, Prisoner of War, Wartrophy Natasha, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha gets called back to Russia after the death of her adoptive father, though who she meets on the plane is far more important, and life-altering, than she could've imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of many--which more of will be explained later, but here's chapter one of what is soon to be a multi-chaptered fic.  
> Enjoy!

  
  


Natasha had, admittedly, known Ivan had been sick for awhile but hadn’t really been able to bring herself to care more than the occasional call to Russia once a week warranted just to check on how he was doing.  Anyway, she reminded herself for the hundredth time, Alexei and Vanko were taking care of Ivan, at least they should have been.  Were supposed to.  They’d stayed in Russia after all to take over his company, and though it was in their best interest if he ended up dying they’d come to care for him as if he were all of their fathers.  He’d raised them after all, though he’d always taken more interest in the boys than he ever had Nat.  It wasn’t uncommon she supposed, not the way he’d been raised, and she was doing her best not to think too poorly of the man now that he’d passed.  She hadn’t seen him since she’d left seven years ago, and yet it was back to Russia she had to go, Ivan’s passing having happened several weeks ago.  It figured, she thought, that it and the funeral happened to coincide with the last few meetings of her Doctorate program, and though she’s cleared her absence with the head of her program she still felt nervous about leaving in the middle, having packed her thesis to edit for what felt like the thousandth time on the flight.  At least it would give her something to do in the twenty or so hours she had until her flight landed in Moscow.  

Her mind flitted back to the present as the cab came to a slow stop at the airport entrance, forcing herself back into the moment as she thrust the fare for the cab plus five extra for his tip, before stepping out .  She was nearly running late as it was, only half an hour before the flight was supposed to take off, thankful to be the only one in line, the woman behind the desk smiling brightly as Nat handed over her luggage and her confirmation information.  Thank God no one seemed to be flying out of Laguardia in the middle of October at five in the morning, or at least if they were they were already on the plane.  She bit back a curse as she watched the woman tap away at the computer in front of her, Nat’s smile permanently frozen on her face.  She wasn’t even back in Russia and already the mask was in place.  

“Running a little late?” The woman asked politely, still smiling as she looked up from her computer to heft Nat’s luggage onto the conveyer belt behind her, slipping the luggage slip onto the handle, her expression a little too cheery for Nat’s taste.  

Nat smiled anyway.  “Yeah.  Traffic.  Hard to believe so early in the morning.”

“Welcome to New York,” the woman laughed before looking over the flight information with a quiet hum of approval.  Without another word to Nat she pulled the phone beside her computer up and tapped at the number pad there.  Nat’s stomach dropped.  What on earth could be wrong with it now?  She looked down at her hands as the woman murmured into the receiver, then handed Nat her ticket soon after.  “Don’t worry--they’re holding the plane for you,” she said with a wink.  “Have a good flight.”

Stomach easing, Nat flashed her a wider smile and thanked her before heading off.  Well, at least that was a pleasant surprise.  Hopefully it was a sign her damn flight wouldn’t suck so much.  She hated flying enough as it was.  

Positivity and optimism, though, had never been her strong suit.  Soon after she skirted down the halls towards the security checkpoint--red jacket off, shoes off, carry on checked, phone, laptop, extra copy of her thesis for her to edit on the flight all made it through the scanner no problem.  The two security guards smiled as she passed through, though Nat wasn’t sure she really liked the way the guards looked down her shirt when she bent to slip her shoes back on.  Gross.  

Trying to ignore it-- _’Think positively for once, Romanov.’_ \--she texted Steve quickly to let her know she made it safely there and through security, having just enough time to see his response.  

_Awesome.  Be safe please, see you soon._

Bless her roommate.  

She had ten minutes to spare as she handed her ticket to the woman at the ticket desk, this one also all grins despite it being an ungodly hour in the morning.  Was it just Nat’s lucky day that she seemed to get the nice people?  Or was there something stuck in her teeth?  As the brunette woman checked over the validity of the document Nat swirled her tongue over her teeth, not feeling anything, barely able to stop herself from reaching up to make sure her hair wasn’t standing straight up or something.  That would be awkward.  

“Alright,” the woman said finally, marking something down on the ticket.  “You’ll be in first class, that’s gonna be third row--.”

“Wait, what?” Nat asked, brow pulled together.  What was she talking about?  “That can’t be--I’m in regular, coach.”  She said, trying to peek at the ticket.  Shit, did she pay extra for it?  She wasn’t going to get that much back from Ivan’s will, she was positive.  Not enough to warrant such an expensive trip.  

“There was a family who needed your seat for their kid and you never showed up so they bumped it up to first class rather than displace them.”  There was a pause.  “Is that okay?” The woman’s eyebrows rose, as though daring Nat to say otherwise, that she was really going to argue at a free bump up to first class on such a long flight.  Cowed, Nat shook her head.  

“Not a problem at all--that’s amazing, actually.  Thank you.”

Business returned to normal as the woman’s smile reappeared on her face and handed Nat the ticket, assuring her that the stewardess would help her find her seat.  Nat thanked the woman and headed through the connecting tunnel, the kind eyed woman at the end of it taking a quick peek at the seating arrangement before pointing Nat on her way.  

“Third row from the back, where the gentleman in the suit is?  The window seat.”  

That didn’t help Nat much, considering it was first class and most of the other guests were businessmen or women, most of which were dressed in much more comfortable versions of business casual.  But third from the back she couldn’t really mess up, and she was grateful to see that she wasn’t the only one who would be putting her things away, the others around her fidgeting with what they would pull from their carry ons as well.  All she had to do was pull out her thesis and--.

_‘Oh, shit.’_

She caught sight of the man who she’d be sitting next to and felt her feet stop right where they were, smack dab in the middle of the aisle, as he stared back up at her.  To say he was gorgeous was pulling it lightly, she thought, swallowing hard as he stood and smiled, which was just the icing on the damn good looking cake that embodied her seating partner.  How the hell was she supposed to get anything done sitting next to him?

“Hey, need a hand with that?” He asked, holding out a hand.  

Forcing herself to breathe evenly she smiled and nodded, perhaps a little quicker than she shouldn’t.  “Yeah, sure thing.  Just lemme grab some work,” she murmured, grateful her fingers weren’t shaking as unzipped the top of it, snagged her portfolio and a red pen, and zipped it back up.  His long fingers encircled the handle, stowing it within the luggage rack above their heads with ease, along with her coat, before allowing her to take her seat and following her.  

“I wasn’t sure if I’d get an extra seat to myself or not,” he teased, green eyes bright as he pushed a strand of black hair out of his face, and Nat felt her face heat up a little.  

“I’m usually a lot more on time than I was today,” she admitted with a laugh at her own expense, pulling her belt over her stomach before sneaking another look over at him through her lashes.  He’d taken the sky mall magazine from the back pocket of the seat in front of him, flipping through it from halfway, where she’d likely interrupted him before, smirking as he stared at the ridiculous things for sale.  She couldn’t blame him, peering over at what had seemed to catch his eye.  A tree-face, complete with incredibly creepy eyes and smile, that was somehow being turned so that she could better look at it.  

Horrified, she looked up to see him staring at her, a smirk playing on his lips.  “Want to look?”

“No, wow.  I’m sorry that was really rude,” she murmured, turning back to her thesis.  “I mean, thank you.  I didn’t mean to look over your shoulder.”

So much for her good day.  

He laughed, though, and the noise was soft, more of a breathy chuckle than anything else, and closed the magazine, staring at the front of it, where a family of four was advertising a series of snuggies in horrendous colors.  “I think they got their capes on backwards,” he teased, shifting the page so she could see it better.  

She smiled  in spite of herself.  “Can’t imagine why,” she said.  “Though I am partial to that one,” she said, pointing out the bright pink cameo.  “Think it’d go great with my hair.  Don’t you?”

He reached one of his long-fingered hands out to touch her hair gently, and she actually felt her breath catch for half a second.  That was awfully familiar of him, though he didn’t seem to think anything differently about it as he felt her soft red curls.  

“It would certainly cause a stir,” he said, winking, before releasing her hair.  She swallowed the squeak that wanted to burst through her lips, forcing herself to calm down.  Flirting was nothing she wasn’t familiar with.  Hell, she was damn good at it when she could slip herself into the right mindset, and she was even better and dishing it back when it was given to her.  She’d had her fair share of relationships, flings, and one-night stands, after all.  She forced herself to relax, shoulders loosening as she smiled over at him.  

“What other colors do they come in?” She asked, leaning over to brush her wrist against his as her hand took the front cover from his hand--and damn, did he have big hands--to flip it open and find the assortment of fabrics and styles available.  “Oh, so many.”

"It almost begs credulity," he teased, eyes flickering to catch hers.  

"Hey, you can trust a sky mall," she said, face going serious as she stared back at him, pulling the magazine closer and pressing it against her chest.  "This is my life.  I swear by this."  

They had half a second between them before he cracked up first, snickering as she dissolved into quiet laughter.  

"I'm sorry," she gasped, holding her sides tight as she tried not to irritate the people in front of them, who were already casting the pair less than pleased expressions, the two men looking as though they were on a sales call for Brooks Brothers.  Nice suits, but too bad their attitudes couldn't match.  

“No need to be sorry for anything . . .” He trailed off, obviously waiting for her name.  

She stuck her hand out.  No harm, right?  It wasn’t as though she’d ever see him again, though she might end up wishing it.  Who knew?  “Natasha Romanov.”  

“Ah, small wonder you’re going to Russia then,” he smiled as he took her hand in his and pressed his lips to the back of it, showcasing a broad smile and a full set of perfect, white teeth.  “Loki Laufeyson.”

This time Natasha managed to keep the flush from settling on her cheeks, her own expression turning wry.  “I bet that works on all the ladies, doesn’t it?” She asked when she pulled her hand back.   He gave a shrug of his shoulders and an endearing laugh at his own expense.  

“It certainly has its merits.  You are not so easily wooed, I see.”  He teased, settling back into his seat and giving her a quick once over, his eyes fixing on the thesis on her lap before finding her face again.  “Giving a conference?”  

“No.  Just working on it.  Trying to get my doctorate.”  She winced.  It was a lot of work, but it would be worth it in the end.  

“Oh?  In?”

“Business,” she smiled.  “And Law.”

“Oh.  Well, remind me to never get on your bad side.  The last thing I need is someone who is far more well versed in the knowledge of the law angry at me,” he teased, feigning fear before winking.  

She laughed and shook her head.  “Oh don’t worry, I’m more interested in the way that the law interacts with business.  I’m not so petty as to sue you for looking at me the wrong way,” she said, her turn to wink.  Let him draw what he would from that.  For the briefest of moments he looked surprised at her boldness, but a soft laugh filtered from his lips moments later, as if it couldn’t be contained.  It was infectious, and once more she was laughing with him.  

“So, Loki,”  she started once they calmed down and things seemed to be settling in for the long haul.  Great.  She needed something to take her mind off of it, popping a piece of gum into her mouth to help with the pressure changes and offering him one.  When he declined, she pressed on.  “What brings you to Russia?  If you don’t mind that I ask.”  She did her best to relax, though the hand nearest the window started tapping furiously on the arm rest.  It was just a flight, with a quick stop in Germany to refuel, then the rest of the way to Russia.  “Unless you’re getting off in Germany?”

“No, I’m for Russia.  I--.”

He was cut off by the stewardess going through the motions of how important the seat belt was, how to use the oxygen masks, where the informational card was and where the emergency exits were located.  When they’d finished Nat caught the eyes of the stewardess, her stomach already knotting up as the woman stepped closer, curious.  It wasn’t going to get any easier from here, so she might as well indulge herself.  From her pocket she fished out her wallet and offered up her credit card.  

“Can I get a few of your travel sizes of vodka, please?”

“Any juice--?”

“Nope.  No, thank you.  Just straight,” she gave the woman a tight, apologetic smile, already able to feel the plane start to move.  God, she needed it soon.  The woman smiled and assured her she’d grab them for her quickly, before Loki looked over at her.  She hated the way he looked concerned, her pride flaring a little.  She couldn’t help it if she hated flying.  

“You don’t have to impress me by drinking it straight, you know,” he teased, playing it off cooly with the smallest of winks.  Nat felt at least one of the knots in her stomach release, though she couldn’t understand why she was looking for his approval.  She didn’t need it, never had needed or wanted a man’s approval, but there was something about Loki that . . . well she couldn’t put her finger on it.  She was just glad for his respect.  

“Don’t worry, this isn’t for your benefit,” she said, forcing her voice to even out.  “It’ll just work better without having to worry about getting too sick from all the sugar.”

“Admirable.  Normally people would use the sugar to their advantage to get drunk quicker.”

“I just need to be pleasantly buzzed--thank you,” she smiled to the woman, accepting the few single serving bottles from the kind stewardess, who assured them that she’d be back once the flight had leveled out.  Nat just dipped her head in understanding, already screwing off the small lid from the bottle of Skyy and guzzling it without so much as pulling a face.  She was a seasoned veteran at taking vodka shots, not only from having grown up in Russia but also having gone through college with Clint Barton.  He was no lightweight.  The two bottles of vodka digested, Nat forced herself to breathe deep, closing her eyes and squeezing them hard together, trying not to focus on all the literature she'd read about how not all flights were safe to go--.

"What's your thesis on?"

Loki's voice was soft in her ear, the heat of his breath warming her cheeks as she opened her eyes with a soft gasp, skin flushing in her surprise and lack of concentration at keeping it all covered up.  

"On the--ah, dangers of big business pushing into smaller countries.  How it doesn't give them as much of an opportunity to thrive in a smaller community where there is only a few options.  If you put a chain store in a country where there was already a mom and pop store, so to speak, well the chain can afford--."  She cut out, biting the inside of her cheek as the plane hit a bump.

"Can afford to undersell while the home owned business goes without."  Loki completed without skipping a beat.

"Ex-ah-actly," she said, not proud of the way that her words caught.  God, she hated this. Hated it hated it hated it.  

"What do you propose instead?" Loki asked, taking her hand in his and letting her squeeze it.  She was grateful, though sure that he'd regret it once he found out that she wasn't exactly muscle-less.  

"Well I suggested that the chain make a deal with the smaller companies.  Not necessarily a merger, but a partnership.  It's not as though they can't afford to provide the goods for a cheaper price, and by allowing them to sell the products at such a low price saves people enough money, stimulates their economy, and then allows the smaller store to make money for themselves as well as their backers.  They just need to stop being so greedy--." She was cut off again by another bump, but it seemed to be the last one as the plane rose for another couple minutes before leveling out.  Loki's thumb worked soothingly over her soft skin, rubbing the back of her hand as he prompted her to keep going on about the markets, what would be expected in a situation like that, what sort of obstacles might get in the way.  He even seemed to know enough that he could add in his own thoughts about the arrangement.  

Color Natasha impressed.

"Were you a business major?"  She asked, smiling thankfully at him as she felt the liquor heating her veins and her fear slipping away with every soft swipe of his thumb over the back of her hand.  He gave a muffled laugh and shook his head.  

"No, but my adopted father ran his own business and I picked up a few things from him training my elder brother.  I was never intended to run a business."  

There was the softest edge of bitterness that thrummed beneath his voice, and her expression softened.  Her hand, which had gone lax in his, tightened.  

"Hey, same here.  My adopted father had no use for daughters, and the only reason I was even allowed to come here was because I managed to raise enough money to, basically, run away."  Why was she saying this?  How was it that she felt so comfortable beside him when it had taken years for Barton, of all people, to get the truth out of her?  He'd been the first person that she'd really trusted, and even then it had been slow going.  She dismissed the liquor as the deciding factor, able to hold it well enough to keep her secrets in every other time, though as she watched the slight lines in Loki's face tense a little, his eyes bright as they took her in as though he was just seeing her for the first time, she thought of how she might not see him again.  It made it easier, she supposed, knowing that he wouldn't be able to ever hold this against her, that after this very long flight his knowledge wouldn't have any sort of repercussion on her.  Who would he tell that she would know, anyway, if they hadn't met until then?  New York was a big state, Russia an even bigger country. The odds of him knowing anyone she did were astronomical.  

The realization hit her hard in the gut as she looked him over.  Maybe the flight wouldn't be so bad after all.  

As promised, the stewardess came around with complimentary drinks for them, and Loki ordered a gin and tonic while Nat just requested another bottle of vodka smiling at the woman and thanking her profusely.  The woman just nodded knowingly, winking, before moving on to the next passengers.  

"So, what do you do?" Nat asked after he'd gotten a couple sips of his drink down.  It was only fair play that since he knew so much about her she returned the favor with her own questions.  

"Oh I pick up jobs here and there," he assured her with a chuckle.  

Her eyebrows flew up.  "Well, they must be rather well paying if you can afford to fly first class to Russia.  C'mon," she nudged him.  "Spill it."  

He snorted, though he was still relaxed beside her.  "Alright.  The truth?"

"The truth."

"I'm working on taking over a teaching position if I can get a recommendation from one of my old professors.  He's since retired and I thought going to meet him might convince him that I was serious enough for te position."

"What do you want to teach?" Natasha asked, leaning back in her seat.  "And the guy must be worth if it you're flying all the way from New York to Russia."

"Well it'd be teaching at NYU, so yeah that's worth it," he laughed.  "And--promise you won't laugh at me?"

"I promise," she said, forcing her face to go straight and sober, though the corners of her lips kept flicking upwards.  She couldn't help it--he looked like a puppy waiting for a treat as he looked at her, his green eyes big and searching hers.  It was almost enough to melt her heart.  "Really, I do promise."

"Theater."  He said with a small chuckle.  

"Really?" She asked, blinking rapidly.  Huh.  She was getting rusty if it was taking her that long to peg him down as something. Theatrical, yes, she could see that now as she knew his profession choice.  Enigmatic, charaismatic.  Yes.  He'd do well at what Ivan had once taught her, how to forge and sneak her way into any situation, usually to get blackmail.  It had been one of the many reasons she'd left his care.  

She needed to stop thinking about that.  He was rolling his eyes, muttering that he told her not to laugh and she quickly backtracked, reaching out to take his shoulder in her hand.

"Hey, not judging you, I promise."  She said with an easy, reassuring smile, the same she'd give to her students when she'd taught as a graduate assistant to tell them that their ideas weren't completely terrible.  "No judgement."

"You business majors with your solid professions and majors," he said, and had she not seen the glint in his eye she might've thought that he was serious.  "Always looking down on the rest of us.  Our majors are just as important as yours."

She smirked, sitting back in her seat as her hand trailed down.  "Well, if you're that hung up about it I could make it up to you."

That got his attention.  Those nearest to them had their attention elsewhere or else were sleeping, the flight attendants were off in the coach section of the airplane, and Nat's eyes flicked to the bathroom.  

"I'm going to go powder my nose," she said, sitting much closer to him so that her lips brushed against his earlobe.  "And I'll give it a few minutes.  If you're not interested and I've been reading you incorrectly--" which she wasn't.  "Then I'll come back and we'll pretend this never happened.  If you are interested, though.  Well, I'll see you soon."  She winked, feeling  a thrill of adrenaline and power as she saw him straighten in his seat, shifting his legs not so subtly.  Heh.  She didn't think she'd been wrong, and well she'd been looking for an excuse to get him to follow her.  That looked as good as any, she supposed.  As she shifted to undo her seatbelt he mirrored the action, standing so that she could get through.  She wasn't very subtle with the way she pressed her backside into his groin, grinning to feel him already hard, and for once he seemed to be without a sort of come back, his Adam's apple bobbing quickly as he swallowed, his eyes following her as she slipped into the bathroom.  The door firmly shut behind her, but not locked, she took half a minute to check her appearance in the mirror, noting with distaste that the color was higher in her cheeks than it ought to have been.  She blamed it entirely on her buzz having kicked in, and for a split second, as she was left in the empty bathroom, she thought she'd made a complete ass out of herself.  Her and her stupid words.  

The next second the door opened and Loki's grinning face appeared, locking hte door behind them as he pressed his lips hard to hers, catching her face in between his two hands as he pressed his tongue to the seam of her lips, making Natasha gasp and part them for him without issue.  They didn't have much time, she knew, and without preamble she shucked her pants slipping one long leg out of them entirely as he fiddled with his belt, his hands on her now bare hips, hiking her up onto the counter space, the linoleum cold against her backside.  He slipped two fingers into his mouth, wetting them, before pulling her panties to the side and pressing his fingers inside of her.  She bit back a loud moan as her head tipped backwards and her eyes closed, whimpering as he stretched her out hurriedly, slicking his hand with her arousal before bringing his hand to his cock, already hard and waiting.  Her eyes caught on it and widened.  Well then, tall men really did have all the best secrets.  

He pushed into her in one swift thrust, choking her in surprise before he pulled back just as hard, repeating the rhythm until she was shouting into his clothed shoulder, her hands having snaked up under his shirt to scratch at his back.  

He hissed in her ear at how good she felt, and she whimpered as he picked up the speed once more, the faucet sticking into her back and making her arch up against him, her breasts pressed hard to his chest.  She didn't last long like that, whispering his name over and over as she clung to him, her orgasm overtaking her and nearly making her shout in surprise, her whole body tightening around him.  He followed shortly after, pulling her by the hair to kiss her hard on the lips, and didn't pull away until the aftershocks had finished between the both of them, Loki thrusting shallowly to help her through them.  

"Wow," Nat whispered against his lips, grinning up at him.  Not bad at all for a quickie--she hadn't come that hard in years.  

He hummed his agreement to her before pulling out with a groan.  "You want out first?" He asked.  

"Yeah.  If you don't mind."  At least she wouldn't get the brunt of the attention.  She hoped.  Even if she did to hell with it.  There'd be a new plane, a new batch of stewardesses, and a ton of new passengers on the next flight.  What did she have to worry about?  Cleaning herself up she straightened her hair as best she could, kissed Loki once more, and finally left.  The stewardess glanced at her, curiously, but left it at that, the pieces not coming together until Loki followed shortly after Nat.  She thought she heard the woman mutter something about 'disgusting kids' before Nat finally took her seat again.

 

 


	2. 1.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning: this chapter gets trigger-y. Check the end notes for what to keep an eye out for if this is a concern for you.

Nat was happy to leave the plane when they got off at Germany, needing to catch the connecting flight to get to Russia, and judging by the leveled glares she was receiving from the stewardesses they weren't too sorry to see her go, either.  They had a good two five layover between flights, and Loki offered to buy her a drink in the meanwhile.  Her head still a little fuzzy from the vodka before the flight she declined the drink but was all for going to get something to eat, anything to soak up the liquor before it actually made her sick.  It hadn’t happened before, but she wasn’t looking to make this the first time.  They managed to find a Starbucks, and though Nat had insisted on buying her own breakfast Loki had slid his card over to the barista despite her complaints, a smooth smirk on his lips.  

“Well if I can’t buy you a drink at least allow me to act the gentleman in some other way,” he teased.  “It’s the least I could do.”  

She rolled her eyes.  Right, as though there was any use acting the gentleman after they’d fucked on a plane.  She could definitely see the correlation between the two, and his smirk widened as though he was thinking the same.  Brat.  

"And speaking of that, since we've got a decently long enough layover.  Want to get a quick room for the day?" He asked after she'd sat down, smiling indulgently.  "I can show you just what sort of gentleman I can be rather than a quickly at a thousand miles in the air."  

She felt her cheeks heat up a little as she stared down at the breakfast sandwich in her hands.  It was tempting.  Very tempting.  She wouldn't mind spending a few more hours getting to know him before they would go their separate ways in Russia, and besides she had no idea if they would even be sitting next to one another on this next flight.  She didn't want to give him up, not that soon after getting him, so to speak.  But at the same time she didn't know him.  Not really.  Certainly she knew his job, she knew his constant fight with his adoptive family, and knew he was damn good in the bedroom, but more than that?  

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," she said as she looked up at him.  "It's not that I don't want to--."

"No, no I understand," he smiled, and there was no judgement in his face when she looked back up at hi, nothing but admiration, as though he was proud of her for sticking to her guns and not being pressured to do something she didn't want to.  Well that was a plus, and she felt regret bubbling deep in the pit of her gut when she thought about not seeing him again.  

"Maybe when we get back to New York we can go out sometime?" She offered with an easy smile.  "If you give me your number I can get a hold of you when I get back to town, and we can go get coffee or dinner or something."

"Sure, that sounds great," he said, the same charismatic smile stretching his cheeks, but she was certain for half a second she could see something else.  Something far more feral.  She swatted the thought aside, though.  They'd fucked in an airplane bathroom and she was worried that he looked at her in a sexual manner?  Ridiculous, she was.  Really ridiculous.  They exchanged numbers and kept talking for a little while longer before Natasha excused herself to make a couple calls, disappearing into the women's bathroom with her things.  Not that she didn't trust Loki, she told herself.  Assured herself.  Because to distrust him would be stupid, but to trust him wholly, entirely just because they'd had a physical connection?  That would be far more idiotic, and she wasn't going to take any more risks like that.  

The airport was furiously busy and she pushed through the crowds as best she could, pardoning herself in the little German she'd picked up as she tried to make her way to the restrooms, small carry-on in tow, phone in hand as she dialed Steve's number without having to look.  He'd be asleep by now, she told herself as she looked at the time differences between countries, but he picked up either way.   

"Nat," he sounded relieved.  "How're you doing?  Are you in Russia already?"

"No," she chuckled.  "No I'm in Germany.  I've got a five or so hour layover then I get on another plane to Russia.  So it's gonna be awhile."

"Oh, okay," he said, barely stifling a yawn that made Natasha smile.  She could practically see his ruffled up blond hair, the bleary light in his half-opened blue eyes as he looked over at her.  They might have split up due to differences that were too great to overcome in a romantic relationship, but she'd always care for him, and that he was willing to take the call when it was so late there meant he felt the same, and that was enough to make her heart heavy with gratefulness.  

"How was the flight?" He asked as she pushed closer to the bathroom, passing just behind a pillar to take a breather.  She wasn't expecting a hand to grab out at her mouth and cover it, wasn't expecting to be pressed against a hard body, muffling shouts until a heavy pressure pushed into the soft spot at the back of her skull and she felt her world pitch forward around her, the phone falling from her hands, Steve's voice shouting out for her before everything went black.  

 

She woke up to an aching head and bright, white teeth grinning broadly down at her.   _'My, what big teeth you have,'_ she couldn't help but think as she tried to rub her eyes, finding her hands were bound above her head.  

"You really should've taken my offer," Loki's voice came, soft, muffled as though Nat's ears were filled with cotton.  

That snapped her back, her eyes going wide as she stared up at Loki, watching as he sat back on the bed beside her, her limbs useless and tied up tighter than she could get out of.  She tried to shout but found her mouth filled with something that restricted her words, drying out her mouth and wringing her free of words.

Shit.  

Her eyes widened as Loki’s words finally sank in.  What the hell was he playing at?  She felt herself begin to shiver as he pulled away from her, her gaze following him, the whole while doing her best to at least keep her wits about her.  Tied to the bed was definitely nothing she was necessarily new to, but in this sort of situation?  Where she was in anything but a safe, sane, or consensual situation?  She tried to wriggle out of the bindings above her, the cotton chafing at her wrists.  No good.  They were solid and well done, and Loki gave a quiet sigh as he watched her struggle.  

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured her, though she very much doubted it, the roll of her eyes saying just as much to him.  He gave a small smile and ran his hand over her cheek, his touch gentle, and though she pulled away with a glare she couldn’t deny that her cheeks flushed a little at his touch.  It was nothing more than a reaction based on the memories of what had happened last time, she told herself.  That was it.  Besides, she couldn’t help but note how his breath caught in his throat the more it looked as if she was giving in, so perhaps the longer she played that up the safer she would be.  She tamped down on her fear as best she could, pushing it deep, deep down as she had done decades ago growing up with Ivan as her father.  She could do this.  She had to do this.  The stakes were high, the reward worth it, and the risk?  She couldn’t think of that, not then.  

“I just need to hold you until my boss gets here. He just wants to talk with you,” Loki insisted, his voice soft and as unthreatening as he could make it.  She snapped her head to attention once more.  “So it doesn’t have to be like htis, Natasha.  I don’t want it to be.  But I need you to promise me that you won’t try and leave.”  He paused.  “Can you?”  

She gave him a look, doing her best to remind him that the gag in her mouth made responding more than a little difficult.  His responding laugh was quiet, almost apologetic, as he made to remove her gag.  She groaned, stretching her jaw and wondering just how long she’d had that in her mouth if she was so sore.  

“What do you want with me?” She asked, voice hoarse, cracking slightly to her embarrassment.  Not that he seemed to notice.  

“Just to talk about what your adoptive father left you is all,” he promised.  “But I can’t tell you more than that.”

“So why are you waiting till now?  Shouldn’t I have seen you before?” She demanded, trying to loosen her body so that there wasn’t as much tension in her wrists bindings as he moved to undo them, allowing her to sit up and rub the sore skin where she’d been held.  She tried not to think of how many times he’d done that, how practiced he had to have been to be that good at it to have been able to hold her so easily.  It only made her heart race and her adrenaline spike her blood.  

“I’m very good at what I do,” he assured her with a soft voice that set goosebumps spiking up her back and would’ve made her heart catch in her throat if she wasn’t expecting it and managed to hide it.  

_‘Play it cool.’_

“So that’s how you knew so much about my major, about business.  That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”  Natasha asked quietly.  “Ivan left his business to me, or to Alexei or Vanko, and you want it.  Or your employer does.”  She guessed.  His surprised face told her all too easily that she’d guessed it all, and he gave a quiet laugh, almost appreciative.  

“You’re smart.  Much smarter than your adoptive father ever gave you credit for.”

“No kidding,” she said as she felt her legs being released, and pulled them up to her waist, looking quickly around the room.  It was dark save the light from the corner lamp, which just barely illuminated all the corners of the room.  The door leading out was open, and another hid itself in the furthest corner of her room, leading into another darkened one that she could only assume was the bathroom.  She filed it away quickly, taking in the darkened landscape just outside one of the tall windows, so tall she would have to find something to stand on if she wanted to try and escape through there.  

“Don’t,” Loki said quietly.  Well, it would seem she wasn’t the only mind reader in the area.  She didn’t respond, and shied away from him when he reached out to take her shoulder.

“I’m really not here to hurt you, I promise.”  Loki said, and he sounded honest, but wasn’t the devil supposed to play all the best tunes?  She kept that in mind as she looked over at him and searched his eyes.  

“You were just supposed to track me down and get me to stay here before I went to my father’s funeral, to stop me from claiming my inheritance because your boss wants it for himself.  Wants whatever little my son of a bitch father thought to leave me.”  She swallowed hard, willing herself to cry.  The quicker she broke the quicker he’d trust her.  “God, was any of what you said to me on the airplane even true?  About your half brother and your aspirations, or was it all a line to get me to trust you?”

“It was true,” he insisted, scooting a little closer to her.  She pulled in on herself, hiding her head in her knees as she sobbed and her whole body shook.  While Loki busied himself in trying to console her, trying to explain to her however he’d gotten caught up in whatever it was his boss wanted him to do, she let her mind wander.  She didn’t dare stay longer than a day in this house, and she supposed a night would be enough time to gain his trust enough for her to give him the slip, as well as for her to get the quick layout of the house.  It didn’t seem modern, so she was willing to bet some of the door locks were simple enough that she could pick them, or at the very least break them down, suddenly grateful for Steve’s self-training lessons.  They might not have worked when she was in the airport but she didn’t intend on getting taken unaware like that ever again.  

Her mind went back to the can of mace in her bedside table in her flat.  Useless.  

Plan in mind, she resurfaced to look at Loki with bleary eyes.  “I want to call my friend.”

His face blanked.  “No.  I can’t let you.”

“Loki--he’s going to worry, and I’m not about to let him have a heart attack because your boss decided he got greedy.  Give me five minutes.  You can sit right there with me.  I just want to make sure he’s okay.”  She insisted, her eyes solid as she allowed him to reach out to her hand and take one of them in his.  If it made him feel better, made him feel as though she was giving in, then she’d let it go, even as she felt her skin crawl from his touch, both clawing to get closer and to scratch his eyes out for seeing her naked, for defiling her body and her mind.  For playing her like he had.  

Later.  She would get revenge for it later.  He gave a grudging sigh as he pulled out his cell phone and handed it over.  She frowned, opening her mouth to ask where her own had gone before remembering he’d thrown it to the ground when he’d taken her.  

“You owe me a new one,” she gave a quiet growl, her eyes narrowed, as she dialed Steve’s number, grateful that she had it memorized.  She wondered if she should try--she could.  If she failed it would set her back severely.  

She swallowed hard as the phone dialed, feeling her throat closing in nerves as the four walls around her seemed to close in--.

“Hello?”  Steve’s voice was thick with concern despite how quickly the word came out.  “Natasha?”

“Hey, Steve,”  She had to clear her throat hard to keep herself from losing it.  Control.  She needed control.  She forced herself to breathe deep.  

“Nat--good God, what happened?  Are you okay?”  He asked, his voice pushing the words together until they were nearly unrecognizable.  

She found herself nodding.  “Yeah, I’m good.  Steve, I’m fine.  Just had a complication with the plane.  I’m gonna be gone a little longer than I meant to be.”  She looked over to Loki, hoping he would deny it.  The dip of his head was enough to make her heart thud harder.  

“What was wrong with the plane?  Why couldn’t they just get you on another one?”  Steve asked.  He’d always been so damn good at reading her when she was in the middle of trouble, and even better at getting her out.  Perhaps she could tell him--.

No.  She didn’t have the strength just then to pull it off.  She needed to be clever about it.  Crafty.  Loki would be suspecting something.  “I dunno, Steve,” she said, voice softening as it so often did when she wanted him to listen carefully to what she was saying.  Wisely he didn’t say another thing.  “But hey, I’ll be okay.  I’m in Germany--.”  

The phone was taken from her hand and clicked off.

“He’s fine.”  Loki said, and his voice was very near empty.  So he hadn’t missed the emotion that had gone into what she was telling Steve.  She wasn’t sure yet if it was a good or a bad thing.  “Is that enough to satisfy you?”

“Can I get a shower?  And some new clothes?” She asked, tipping her chin up to try and face off against him, visibly shaking now.  He seemed to keep himself from reaching out to her, as though on instinct, before nodding and pointing his head towards the bathroom.  

“Sure.  I’ll be just outside, then we’ll get something to eat.  I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Yes, she was, and it would be easier to maneuver her way around the city with a full stomach rather than being distracted by hunger.  She muttered a quick thanks and crawled off of the bed.  He offered her clothing she recognized from her own suitcase, though it was nowhere to be found, before moving to stand outside the bathroom door.  

It was windowless, so there went her plans to try and escape that way.  She struggled to keep from hyperventilating as she gripped the porcelain of the tub, drawing hot water until she managed to figure out how to work the showerhead.  Only once the water started to drip on her bare skin did she let herself go, the sobs escaping with ease as she trembled and held on with white knuckles to the wall to keep herself from falling to her knees.  How the hell had she gotten here?  

 

She emerged an hour or so later, skin red and rubbed near raw in her attempt to get him off of her skin, the deep purple v-neck covering up her arms but showing off far more cleavage than she felt comfortable with, while at least the jeans felt comfortable and familiar, still.  His expression softened slightly as he took her in.

“Still hungry?”  He asked, voice quiet.

“Yes, please,” she said, though she didn’t meet his eyes as he led her to the kitchen, taking in the small layout of the house.  The living room door would be her best bet for an escape, and though what was on the other side of it was a mystery it was at least close enough that she should be able to get there in a few strides from the bedroom.  She didn’t see another one, and it made sense why he was staying so close.  He wasn’t about to let her out of his sight for a moment, knowing all too well that she might get the idea that she could run in her head.  She tried to think if he’d have any weapons around the house, her eyes sticking to the small knife block as he led her into the kitchen and sat her down, offering to make sandwiches.  She didn’t eat much, though thanked him for the turkey sandwich in her hands, Loki devouring his own without much thought.  She simply pushed it to the side of the paper plate he’d gotten for her, her face listless she was sure.

“What’s going to happen to me after I give your boss what he wants?” She asked.  Why bother with any other scenario?  If they were so determined to get her like this she would have to give them what they wanted.  If she stayed, that was.  

“You’ll be free to go back to your home, to do whatever you wish, continue on with your Doctorate degree if you wish.  Life will return to normal,” he said, sitting back in his seat, her eyes meeting his.  “And I’ll be checking up on you every so often to make sure that you don’t tell anyone what happened.  You won’t do that, will you Natasha?”

She hated the way her body reacted to how he said her name, hated that she could remember how he’d moaned it as he sheathed himself in her on the plane.  Was that how it was done?  They got under your skin, got you at your most vulnerable, and somehow she could never get him out again?  

No.  That wasn’t okay.  Even as her body betrayed her she looked away.  

“No, I won’t.”  She murmured.  

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” Loki said, the silence that had stood between the two of them having gotten to be too strong for him to stand.  

She tried not to snort.  Right.  He’d taken her hostage, was telling her that she had to will over whatever small thing it was that Ivan had bothered to give to her, hell she’d woken up tied to a bed, and he was telling her that she didn’t have to be afraid of him?

He sighed and dropped his head into his hand, letting out that soft, apologetic laugh again.  It might’ve been cute if she hadn’t wanted to punch him for it.  

“Okay.  We got off to a rough start--.”

“No, the start was fine.  The middle is what gets me,” Natasha snapped.  “You were a perfectly fine gentleman and now you’re some crazy psychopath!”  

“I’m doing my job.”

“And I was trying to fly to get to my father’s funeral.”  

“He’s hardly your father,” he said with a scoff.  

“How do you know all of this?  Stop it!”  She said, finally pushing herself back from the table and getting to her feet, in enough of a rush that her chair clattered to the ground.  Her sudden reaction caused him to go very still, his eyes pinpointing on her as his shoulders straightened and his hand clenched his right side.  Gun, she was guessing.  Or a knife.  Whatever the weapon was she didn’t really want to find out through him having to use it, and so allowed herself to burst into tears again and sink to the ground, the kitchen small enough that she only had to scoot backwards a few inches before her back hit the cupboard.  

“Just please s-stop,” she begged through her fingers, her hands covering her face as she kept the crying up.  She’d gotten good at perfecting it for professors, never had she thought that she’d need it in a situation like this.  She heard the chair scrape against the linoleum floor as he moved closer to her and picked her up, surprisingly strong for his slight frame, to bring her back to the bedroom.  He laid her down there, and she felt him lay beside her, obviously having no concept of personal space.  It wasn’t surprising, she supposed as she thought about it and let herself tremble in his arms, feeling how he favored his left side, keeping his right within range at all time.  She was right to think weapon, and if he wasn’t removing it she could only guess it was slim enough to not cause a problem when not on his feet.  Knife was her safest bet, she thought, and after a few minutes, she allowed herself to curl into him, turning herself around to bury her head in his chest, slowing her breathing to pantomime sleep, her whole entire body relaxing as he wrapped his arms around her.  

She hadn’t expected to feel the exhaustion hit her like a truck, barreling into her so hard she wasn’t sure how to breathe at first, shuddering once more before she eventually got control over herself.  All the while he soothed her as best he seemed to know how, rubbing her back and breathing her in as he planted his nose to the top of her head.  She could feel him smile against her.  

“It’s going to be alright, Natasha.  I’m going to take care of you.”

Obsessive didn’t seem to start to fit the bill.  

 

It took some time before he eventually fell asleep, and Natasha was just lucky enough to have escaped it herself, sliding out of his embrace as slowly as she could, barely managing to put a pillow in her place and pausing every few seconds to make sure that his breathing remained normal.  Even.  That he still slept.  

His phone would be in his pocket, Loki not having removed anything since they’d been lying there, along with his wallet and the knife.  She could pick up a few of those on her way out, could pickpocket what money she had to, but it was the phone she really wanted.  

Or her passport, or the rest of her damn belongings wherever they might’ve been.  She hadn’t seen them when she’d gotten time to look around the room, though they had to be there somewhere if she’d been dressed in her own clothing.  

Oh well, she didn’t have time to think it over.  She needed to get somewhere safe.  She padding out on the cold ground towards the door, grateful for the creepy silence of his floorboards.  She supposed it was good for a killer, or kidnapper, or whatever the hell Loki was.  As planned, she snagged a knife from the block in the kitchen, grateful that he seemed to have spent a decent amount of money on them, and at the same time a little weirded out that he had Martha Stewart brand knives.  Whatever.  

There were boots at the door, men’s boots and far too big for her feet, but she laced them up and tied them tight all the same, barely trusting to breathe.  Almost there.  Almost there.  Her fingers trembled as she undid the lock, and for half a second she was terrified the noise would wake him, keeping her ears keen on his even breathing, trying to use it to calm herself down.  As long as that continued, then she would be fine.  

The alarms blared as soon as she opened the door, but she didn’t have time to think or do anything else except sprint, tripping over her own feet as she raced down the stairs and jumped down the last few, landing on her hands and her knees, before scrambling back up to her feet and running out the door.  Just before she got out she could hear Loki shouting her name, her would-be captor hot on her heels, but the commotion woke the other neighbors and she could hear their doors opening too before the door behind her swung shut and she was out--out!--into the night.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have an aversion to kidnap or someone being held prisoner, I'd steer clear of this until the very end, when Nat gets free eventually from Loki.


	3. 1.3

Truth be told she had no idea where she was going, only that she needed to disappear out of sight as quickly as she could.  It wouldn’t be long before Loki caught up with her once more, and she swallowed her fear as best she could as the sound of her oversized boots hitting the pavement echoed in her chest, drowned out only by the thudding of bass coming from down the street.  She could hear more shouting coming from behind her and, not wanting to chance it, turned in the direction of the music.  If she could just get inside wherever it was coming from--a club likely, or a bar of some sort--and lose herself in the crowd she might have half a chance.  It was the only plan she had, at least.  

Though she’d forgotten to grab money on her way out of the apartment, she managed to sneak into the club without much issue, the noise deafening as she stepped in with a large crowd of other girls, pretending to smile and mingle as they walked past the two bouncers, Nat wishing her German was far better, the stolen knife burning where she'd slipped it into the side of her boot.  At least here, with the music so loud and the lights bright enough to blind, she wouldn’t have to worry too much about attracting attention, sure that if she could just find a dark corner to wait it out she would be able to blend in without issue.  Thankful for the time spent partying at clubs her first two years at university, she worked to press her way through the crowd with relative ease, smiling and pardoning herself as quietly as possible whenever she stepped on someone’s toes or else elbowed someone too hard in the ribs.  It wasn’t easy work, and every time someone grabbed out at her she felt her heart dip into her stomach, felt her throat close up and her eyes widen with fear whenever she caught sight of green eyes or black hair.  It was a miracle she got through at all without a panic attack, she told herself as she considered it all, rubbing her hands over her arms to keep herself from breaking into goosebumps as she kept trying to disappear.  Beer was spilled on her on more than one occasion, and the floor was already sticky enough to walk on without the added slick of the spilled liquor to add to her trouble with her oversized boots.  

As she neared the furthest corner from the door, from which she could stand with her back to everything, something she sorely needed if she was to get any sort of peace of mind, a pair of hands took her by the hips and ground against her, quick German racing into her ear as the owner’s hips moved in tandem with the music.  Nat pushed away from him with all the force she could muster, trying to summon what little German she knew to tell the man off, before he pressed a drink into her hand.  

“Lighten up,” He said, his English broken as he grinned at her, teeth gapped and eyes beady.  “Have a little fun, yeah?”  

Right, as if she’d actually drink it.  How stupid did he think she was?  She shook her head and tried to give him the drink back, but he had already started to walk away, leaving her there with the tepid brown liquid stinking of wheat and barley and cheap liquor.  She tried to look for a place to set it, but finding none she clenched it tight in her hand.  Her eyes looked down at the clear surface.  Would it really be that bad if she had a sip?  Hell it might help her loosen up, as the man suggested.  

And surely there couldn’t be anything in it if he had prepared to drink it herself, and damn her nerves were frazzled enough as it was.  

But she couldn’t be sure about it, and everyone else was drinking, so wouldn’t it make sense to at least blend in?  She tried to manage her way through, the drink feeling heavier in her hand and on her mind every second.  She felt pathetic for considering it, but what the hell.  She tipped the cup back and took a sip of the drink in her hand.  It tasted normal, at least, and she’d been careful to take a small bit of it in her mouth before swallowing it, and as the warm liquor coursed through her throat and buried itself deep into her belly she felt the same heat spreading through her veins.  That would be nicer, she supposed, than the deep fear that had rooted itself there at one point, now loosening up as she took another sip.  She wouldn’t drink the whole thing, she reasoned with herself.  Just enough to take the edge off.  If she was too uptight then she couldn’t think properly, and if she couldn’t think well, she was dead.  To drink too much would result in the same, and so after half of the glass she passed it off into someone else’s hand, finally coming to stand in the corner she’d so coveted.  

He wasn’t going to find her.  She was certain of it, even as the thin film of liquor spread over her vision, warming her pleasantly, not like the uncomfortable heat that had spread due to the closeness of the bodies around her.  He wasn’t going to get her.  Though her boots were too big, and her clothing stood out in comparison to the short skirts and thin t-shirts of those women around her, she was too small to be noticed.  Had she had time she’d have dyed her hair something other than its obvious bright shade of red, but even that got covered in the dim lighting, showing up pink or yellow as the colored lights above her shifted.  

She was safe.  She was free.

She felt eyes on her, eyes that sent goosebumps up her skin, and her comfort turned to heavy dread in her veins.  Her bones stiffened as she tried to pinpoint where the attention was coming from, though in hindsight that was a really dumb idea.  As she turned others did as well, catching her attention and holding it from time to time, even spurning others to come up to her and dance.  She tried refusing, brain scrambling with her desire to get out, get free.  Anything.  A pair of hands held her by the hips, gently pulling her back and grinding against her, the hard outline of someone’s cock pressed against her backside.  

“Stop,” she choked, turning around.  The sight of Loki behind her made her tremble, and the man looked immediately shocked at the gurgled shriek that left her lips.  The black hair she thought she saw melded to brown, and the once green eyes faded to deep blue.  

“Oh, God--Sorry,” she had to stutter, pushing away and slipping as best she could through the crowd, away from her safe haven of a corner, away from the man who’d looked--she swore he was--.

God she was going crazy.  Or the liquor had been spiked.  Her heart sped up in her chest, heating her even further until she felt like her skin was going to melt off of her muscles and bones.  She was an idiot, she was so stupid, why had she even bothered taking a sip--.

“Natasha,” she heard her voice being called from around her, echoing in her ears, sending goosebumps up her too-hot flesh and making her whip around, elbow digging into the gut of a nearby woman.  She shouted in loud, angry German, attracting more attention than Natasha was comfortable having, and with wide eyes Nat pushed her way through the crowd.  She tripped over her boots, landing against one of the nearest bodies, which turned to catch her as best as he could.  Pale skin, strong hands, long fingers.  

She shrieked again, the man releasing her with a surprised start at her own volatile reaction.  “Are you alright?”  His English was broken, but she shook her head and pulled away.  Brown eyes, not green.  Blond hair, not jet-black.  She was fine, was safe.  She knew it.  

But how long?  

The club was a bad, bad idea, and she raced to the bathroom, pushed her way through the already lined up women and threw up into the nearest sink, not caring for the disgusted complaints and shouts coming from those behind her, only knowing that she had to get it out of her body, out of her system.  Idiot, idiot, idiot.  The heavy bass was making her head ache, the light from above making her eyes sore, and all over she felt as though she was coming apart at the seams.  How the hell was she going to make it without money, without a place to stay, and manage to get to the embassy to get back to America?  

She shoved back the tears that pricked her eyes and washed out her mouth with water as best she could, trying to get the acrid taste of bile from her lips and tongue, the cool liquid heaven to her over sensitive nerve endings as she pushed herself up from the sink.  

 _‘Get moving, Tasha.  Get moving or die.’_  It was that simple.  

Wiping her mouth clear she slid her way through the other bodies of women waiting for the bathroom, ignoring the glares she received by keeping her head down and taking another look out at the writhing bodies on the floor, the newest song quick, the strobe lights being used so that it seemed as if almost everything was slowing down.  She swallowed her fear and the need to vomit again before pushing her way through the outskirts of the people, trying to feel her way for another safe place.  Perhaps near the very center, this time, where she would be so surrounded that she would be unrecognizable from anyone else.  She pushed her way through, trying to smile and seem as light hearted as those around her, but everytime someone so much as put a hand on her she felt her heart rate near kill her.  

_'Move or die.'_

She gave way to instinct.  Her brain wasn't helping her then, not when she kept overthinking everything that happened, and so when she finally got to her destination she did her best to let go, to try and relax and let her body move with the beat.  The music was infectious, the pounding in her heart subsided, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime she smiled.  She was safe in this mob of bodies, in this mess of human life and contact, and though she never thought to be feeling so happy in such a thick crowd, more of a loner than anything else, she couldn't be touched here without causing a scene.  Right?  

 

All things, however, came to an end, and as the night wore on, as she felt her exhaustion hitting her like the wrecking ball song that she swore she heard at least three times that night, she felt her sense of safety go with it.  Those that she'd surrounded herself with began to thin, and though she'd struck up a few conversations, and even considered the idea of going home with one of the men who'd asked her out for sheer sake of using it as an excuse to get further away from Loki, she didn't see that turning out well. If anything it'd only lead to her being further away from town, further away from help, and she wasn't about to put herself through that.  She had, however, managed to steal a couple of bills while making out with one of the men nearest her before he'd left, and Nat had slipped the money into her bra for safe keeping, not sure how many others would be doing the same thing.  Still, as the people began to dwindle away she considered how much she had and whether it would be enough to at least get her a night at a cheap hostel.  She had a weapon to keep herself safe, that was certain, but she couldn't help thinking that the money could be used for a cab, or to get a call to Steve or Clint or someone to verify that she was indeed who she said she was.  It wasn't as though she had a passport or anything else to verify it.  

Hell, she didn't even know if Loki was the bastard's real name, what the address was that he'd kept her, or anything else.  She refused to let the tear get to her this time, though, pushing it deep down to sit heavy in her gut before moving once more to the bathrooms.  Could she possibly stay in here the whole night?  

Doubtful.  They'd be coming in to clean, and she didn't want to risk getting caught and bringing more attention to herself.  She took a couple handfuls of sink water, washing her face off with it as well before she came out once more.  

The grip that found her wrist and her mouth was tight, and though the crowds had thinned the music was still more than loud enough to drown out her screams and shouts against the cool palm pressed against her lips, gagging her.  

"I told you I would take care of you," Loki's voice hissed in her ear as he began to drag her backwards, towards what she assumed to be a back exit, his lips warn against her suddenly cool and clammy skin, her body going rigid with shock before she writhed and tried to pull away, Loki dragging her without issue.  Once upon a time she'd known how to throw a man off of her when she was in a position like this, yet even as she tried to position herself he stuck his knee hard into the base of her spine, the pain sending flashes of light in front of her eyes and making her muscles spasm with shock.  She tried biting down on his hands but he simply sighed and pressed her hard against the wall, the shadows covering them both up.  For all anyone could see they were just a couple sneaking away for a private moment.  

"Natasha, relax," he breathed into her ear.  "Relax and I won't have to hurt you.  I know you're tired, I know you're scared but you have to trust me."

'Said the wolf to his prey,' Natasha couldn't help but think, very much trembling for real beneath his hands as she felt him press harder against her.  There was a shift, and something cold and metal, sharp enough to make her grit her teeth, pressed into her back, her body held tightly in place by Loki's hips against hers.  "Now.  I can make this painful and take you with me, or we can do this the easy way, where you don't cause a fuss and--."

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" A voice demanded, loud and thickly accented as one of the bouncers came up to them.  He was enormous, blond, and Loki stiffened as he slipped the knife back into his pocket.  Nat saw her opportunity and seized it  As Loki began to loosen his grip on her, a smooth lie coming out about how they'd just been having a little fun, she slammed her head back into his, hearing the satisfying crack of breaking his nose before dropping down to grab the knife out of her boot.  The bodyguard shouted for her to stop, but she pushed through him without issue, far quicker than his brawn allowed for as she took off running. She wasn't going to get stuck, not again--.

 

 

Natasha Romanov woke in the Avengers Tower, gasping for breath as she sat up quickly, blinking rapidly and trying to rub at her eyes, trying to get the last semblances of Loki's face out of her head.  

“Natasha, you’re okay, you’re safe,” Clint’s voice said in her ear, his hand coming out to rub her back.  She felt the needle in her veins shift as he brushed against it and she forced herself to stare at it, to recognize it.  It had all been a dream, or rather a product of Loki’s dreams.  The man was lying at her side, a similar needle connected to his veins, his brow pulled tight in his sleep.  He wouldn’t wake, not soon.  Not until she’d gotten through his memories.  The spell, as Thor had explained it when he’d brought the out-cold man to the tower.  He’d gotten on the wrong side of a sorceress who’d enchanted him to sleep forever unless someone was brave enough to traverse into Loki’s mind and weed out the parts of him that were most dangerous.  

Only Natasha had been brave enough, or stupid depending on their interpretation, and that had definitely been Clint’s, to step up to the challenge.  

“Did anything change?” She choked, the memories and terror of the dream fading into the background as she looked up to Bruce.  The doctor shook his head.  

“Nothing.  I’m afraid--there might be more--.”

“Put me under again,” Nat said with a nod, steeling herself.  Across the room Thor started to apologize, to say that she didn’t have to, but she cut him off by raising a hand.  “I owe you for the help you gave me against Skurge, and besides if it helps your brother be less crazy--I’m all for it.”  She felt her cheeks strain with the smile, though Barton’s snort made her punch him in the arm.  Idiot.  

Bruce was working between she and Loki again, checking the drug that connected the both of them and put them out, the compound he’d learned from a chemist friend he’d met some time ago he said.  Nat trusted him, and as she laid back down and closed her eyes she couldn’t help but wonder what the hell Loki’s imagination was going to bring forth next.  If obsession, which she could only assume was the latter, was out of the way, what more was she going to have to deal with?  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buahaha.  
> Well, I hope the ending makes sense, if not please lemme know so I can fix it, but I hope hope hope it came off well.  
> I'll try and update with the next dream sequence/AU ASAP, till then thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


	4. 2.1

The Jotuns, it seemed, were not as poorly off as Natasha and her battalion had been led to believe.  For months they’d been planning the attack, the infiltration of Thor’s coronation having been the kindling that fueled a hatred bubbling just beneath the public eye for so long that for the first time since the first war with Jotunheim they armories had been bled dry of metal, that enlistments within Asgard’s armies had risen, and as they made preparations for the siege of the wasteland known as a realm talk of not just putting the Jotuns in their place but of destroying them--defeating them and wiping them out for good, as it was said Odin ought to have done centuries ago--ran rampant across the training fields and within the barracks.  For after all, what good was a race who sought only to cause chaos and sneak around, nowhere near the bold and courageous Aesir, when they came to a new realm?

Perhaps, Natasha thought as she was forced to her knees before their king, they’d been overestimating their own abilities.  Her wrists were stinging from the freezing shackles around them, locking her hands behind her back, and she was certain that her kneecaps would shatter if the guard above her pressed any harder on her shoulder to keep her firmly in place.  Teeth gritting together, she blinked rapidly to keep the tears of pain from spilling as the Jotun’s cold, blue fingers pressed hard into one of her shoulder wounds, barely healed and forcing her to suck in a quick breath from the spirals of pain sending sparks across her vision.  

“Look at me, child,” the soft, silken voice came from the one sitting in the throne before her, though she’d refused to look up.  She’d gone to Jotunheim to kill every Jotun she met, not to kneel at his feet, a bitter, broken lieutenant sent to parlay and sue for whatever peace she could hope to get.  ‘ _Little_ ,’ she thought as she bit on her tongue until it bled.  They ought to have simply killed her when they had the chance--she’d garner nothing of any use from this meeting, no matter how much trust or faith in her Thor had.  

She didn’t get the choice where her eyes were allowed to stay as her bright red hair, braided and hanging thickly down her back, was tugged at until her neck went lax, her head rose, and her eyes fell on the beast in front of her.  

The runt was sitting wide legged and bright eyed on the throne, a crown of ice that gleamed like jewels resting between his two horns and wrapping around to frame his face, his red eyes keenly fixed on her.  His black hair was so long it fell to his chest, feathered so he looked as though he had ravens wings for hair, and his cheekbones so sharp she wouldn’t have been surprised if they were made of ice themselves.  

Had he not been her enemy she might’ve said he was beautiful.  

Knives were strapped across his chest and Nat tried not to salivate at the idea of taking one and ripping his eyes out for the way he was staring at her.  She’d performed a similar deed when one of the men she’d trained with had gotten the wrong idea about what type of lady she was, and she had little hesitations about doing it again.  As it was, however, she didn’t think she’d be getting free of the damn shackles any time soon.  

He was not what she was expecting as a Jotun king, and worse than that the gleam that sharpened his eyes and the corners of his grin told her that he knew it.  Their informant, the dark haired, green eyed man had told that Farbauti still sat on the throne and that there was dissention among the Jotuns due to the claims made by the eldest son.  They’d anticipated the Jotuns to be divided, had planned and trained based on this information.  Hell, Natasha didn’t even know of the runt until this very moment, assuming Helbindi and Loki would be the only two siblings to worry about.  She’d personally dispatched the first, cleaving his head in two the first day when his paltry army had stood against her enormous one, but she wasn’t sure where Loki had slipped off to when the second army came to lay waste to her men.  The coward must’ve seen the destruction and fled.  

Unless--.

But that couldn’t be possible.  No.  Her eyes went wide as she surveyed the king, mouth tipping open slightly.  Though, she had to remind herself that so far all of her previous information had been wrong, hadn’t it?  So why would it surprise her if that was wrong, too?

“Loki Laufeyson?” She asked after licking her dry, cracked lips, tasting blood and hesitation.  

He inclined his head ever-so slightly, the smirk widening until it became mocking and got under her skin.  As if she needed another reason to want to slit his throat and see if the blood of the Jotun royalty was as blue as they said.  Her jaw clenched.

“Were you expecting my mother?” He asked, voice still holding that strange softness, though he couldn’t have looked any more pleased at making a fool of her.  

If she ever made it back home alive she would fillet the bastard who’d given them the wrong information herself.  She gritted her teeth and lifted her chin, forcing her face to grow blank.  If he wanted to play games well then he was arguing with the wrong person.  She’d had more than enough of her fair share of them and was in no mood.  Besides, the sooner she finished up here the sooner she could return to Asgard and coax some feeling back into her fingers.  Hopefully.  

“We were, your highness,” she said.  “And I am sad to not have been able to have met her.  I have heard she is an incredible woman.”  She did her best to pull out the courtly airs she’d always hated and Sif had told her she was absolutely awful at using.  Still, if he thought her capable of being not only a warrior but a diplomat then this ought to go better for her.  At least she could only hope.  

Loki looked as though he was doing his best not to laugh, sitting back in his seat with mirth etched into his face.  Nat only wished she could say she felt the same, but her knees and head ached and she would’ve much rather put a sword through Farbauti than meet and discuss politics with her.  Loki must’ve known that, too.  

“How kind of you,” he said, condescending as all get out, so much so that it very nearly made Natasha’s skin crawl, goosebumps rising on her flesh.  Though that could’ve also been due to the cold that was beginning to seep into her bones.  Not that Loki cared, ignoring it as he pressed on.  “You’ve been brought to me to discuss peace terms have you not?  What could you possibly have to offer to me?”  He asked with a flourish of his hands, the golden chains roped around his blue skin jingling as he moved.  The noise reminded her only of the jangling of the other chains, the bonds she heard their servants wore, causing her tension and nerves to rise further.  

“What else could you want but peace?” She asked.  “We will leave if you agree to let us and never again storm your realm.  What is more we’ll open trade between the two realms,” she offered, trying to gauge his expression.  If he was offended, well, she wasn’t too sure what would happen to her, only that she’d sooner fall on her sword before staying there any longer than she had to.  “What other terms do you wish?”

Oh she didn’t like the look he was giving her, the way his lips curled and his eyes narrowed, bringing to mind a cat surveying its prey.  She refused to be that, though, tilting her head higher, eyes slitting.  No.  She would allow no man to make her feel inferior.  King or not.  

“Trade, yes.  You all would think that is a valuable bargaining chip.”  He stood and moved towards her.  The long fur coat draped across his shoulders dragged on the floor, his bare feet making no noise as the guard holding Natasha’s head up released her to step back away from her.  Her neck ached from the strain of having to keep looking so far up, yet now that he stood closer his crotch was on eye level, the thin, leather trousers he wore so tight that it left little to the imagination.  She leaned backwards onto her heels, trying to ease the strain on her neck as she got a close look at the scars and markings that ran up his blue torso, dipping down past the waistband of his trousers, peeking out on the undersides of his arms, up near his forehead, everywhere imaginable.  His eyes were watching her, as he reached out to caress the side of her face.  He wore vambraces on his arms, the metal dark black steel that extended towards his fingertips, where he wore claws of the same material over each finger, as though he thought himself a dragon or shadowcat.  The sharp undersides of the talons made her shudder as he cupped her cheek.  She swallowed thickly and looked up at him with what she hoped seemed like bored indifference rather than the hate she felt attempting to warm the rest of her body.  

“But I want you as well,” he said without shame, taking a turn around her as she blinked rapidly.  What?

“I’m not for bargain.  Your highness,” she added quickly, doing her best to keep her voice as level as possible when all she wanted to do was strangle the bastard with the chains around his throat, or the ones around her wrists.  Whichever came first.  Assuming she got feeling back into her arms, that was.  They’d gone numb some time ago.  

“Everything is for bargain when you need something,” he reminded her, moving a hand towards the braid and pulling her hair free of it, his metal claws catching gently on her scalp and making her hiss with barely muted surprise and . . no, that wasn’t pleasure.  Nothing he could do, short of dropping dead, could please her.  She pulled her head free from where he’d caught a handful of her hair, glaring up at him, and yet in her haste to pull away she misjudged her own balance and toppled over onto her back.  Loki laughed quietly as her cheeks heated in her embarrassment.  

“I will put a knife through your gut,” she snarled up at him, the cold of the ice floors seeping through her thin clothing as she struggled to get her legs to move.  She’d been sitting in one position for far too long, however, and found it difficult to even consider getting to her feet.  The other guards had tensed as she found her feet, willing her knees to not weaken any further, “You, dead at my feet, will be bargain enough for me.”

“I am eager to see you try,” he murmured, gaze darkening as he stepped closer.  “But if you want peace you will give me what I want.  If not I will obliterate your entire race and take you for myself, compliant or not.  You have your choice.”  Every word of his darkened his demeanor until he cast a shadow over her so large she thought she’d never find the end of it, and terror roared as it began to devour her heart and her courage.  She backed up away from him, her eyes wide, and he lashed out to grab her by the shoulder and pull her closer, the points of his talons biting her skin as it pushed past the fabric of her tunic.

“You have a great deal of pride in your assumptions of what your armies can do,” she growled, trying to find her footing and her courage as quick as possible.  Neither was easy on the ice floors of the palace she’d been brought.  What was worse she had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering as he backed her up, taking long strides for every three or so of her own.  “We’re offering peace.  A peace you need as badly as we do.  Refuse and we’ll rip your damn world apart.  Even if it kills all of us.”

“Or you can simply save them all.  You, dear, little Aesir warrior,” the king said, the harsh lines of his displeasure disappearing as his gaze burned through her.  He took her chin in hand to keep her from moving further, arm viper-quick as the steel of his fingers kissed her skin none too pleasantly.  Her eyes watered.  

“Natasha,” she bit out.

“Natasha,” he hummed.  “You can save them all.  Save your king, your country.  Simply stay with me.”  He didn’t release her, craning her neck.  Norns she wished he’d just snap it and be done with it.  At least her death would justify the fighting that would follow.  

Her mind moved quickly.  “If I say yes--and I’m not agreeing right now--I’ll not stay with you for longer than a month.  I have a family--.”

“No, you don’t,” he smirked and his grip tightened.  She could feel the blood bead and drip down her skin as his thumb tip punctured the skin.  Fuck.  “You’re an orphan with nothing to lose.  Like me.”

“You have everything to lose,” she said, attempting to pull away as she tucked the information about his being an orphan deep down, but the cold had seeped her strength from her bones.  “And I will take it all.”  

“One year,” he argued.  “One year and I will release you.”

“Two months.”

“One year.”

“Six.”

“Years?” He grinned.

“Months.”

“A year,” he repeated.  “Or the death of your whole race.  As you said, you’ll die fighting if you must, and as you’ve seen my armies are not the cowering wretches you thought they would be.”  He leaned down to her, tipping her head to the side and drawing his tongue over the dribble of blood that had slowly rolled down her skin, lips and tongue surprisingly warm.  Warm enough to make her shudder in something not even close to disgust.  

A year.  Four seasons, even more months, however many days, all of which she’d have to stay with this son of a bitch, the man who sought to destroy everything she’d ever held dear.  

More than that, a year in which she could try to pay him back.  

She focused her gaze as stoically as she could on his as he pulled away, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his other hand.  “Fine,” she spat.  “I’ll do it.”  

He released her and grinned as he pulled back to once more run a hand through her hair.  This time, rather than the disgust that was fast becoming second nature every time he so much as looked at her, a warming sensation started from her very scalp, flooding her whole body.  The pain came with it, ragged and reminding her that she’d tugged too hard on her manacles when she’d been brought in, the skin chafed and likely near bloody from where she’d struggled.  Pain she could deal with, though.  His eyes on her the way they were now, though, she wasn’t so sure.  

He mistook her calculating gaze on his features as curiosity.  “I couldn’t very well have you freezing to death.  That would make things so much less interesting,” he said.  “Now.  You will attend your prince for the rest of the day.  You are to explain to him the stipulations as I explain them to you.  Your people are allowed one week more in my realm to bury their dead and have their funeral rites.  After that any other Aesir remaining without having a reason will be considered a spy and punished as such.  This evening you will return to me, and in two days your king and I will meet to formalize the treaty.”  He said all this very clearly, as though he’d had it planned for some time, and she gritted her teeth and clenched her fists to think that he’d expected her to agree to stay with him.  

“Anything else?” She asked, body tense and eyes narrowed as she watched him.  Rather than find it vexing it almost seemed to soften his features.  

“Oh I do so look forward to our time together,” he purred as he stepped even closer, one hand on her back to keep her from backing up too far.  His breath was warm on her cheek and ear as his claws working to slip the key into the lock of the handcuffs, and it was all Nat could do not to shiver underneath him.  The moment that the shackles were pulled off from her skin she backed away, rubbing her tender wrists and regarding him with a guarded expression.  He simply smiled.  “Be here tonight, and if you consider disappearing back to your shining citadel I’ll bring it crashing down around your head.  You’ve seen what my armies can do, imagine what would become of your precious Asgard if we were to move from our own lands and settle into yours.”  

She pushed at the visuals he was all but spoonfeeding her, turning to walk briskly down the grand hall towards where she’d been led in.  She didn’t run, wouldn’t run from him even as her mind screamed at her to escape, and his echoing laugh haunted her no matter how far away she got.  

 

She found both Thor and Odin waiting for her in the planning tent, the rest of the war council having dispersed to run the numbers and probability of continuing their campaign if Natasha’s treaty with the king wasn’t favorable.  Thor’s eyes lit up with an odd concoction of what looked like relief and fury when he saw her, and she thought the latter might be from the marks around her wrists and chin from his claws.  She hoped, at least, that she hadn’t displeased him in battle so much so that he was angry to see that she still lived.  

Judging by how tightly he embraced her upon her return she doubted that very much.  

“What did the monstrous queen want?” He demanded before Odin could say anything, the pair offering her a seat which she took with a gracious smile.  She wasn’t sure how much longer her knees could hold her up, especially not when the gravity of what she’d just signed off on came back to hit her hard like a blow to the back of the head.  Oh Norns.  What the hell had she done?

“Farbauti isn’t the queen, whether she’s dead or not I could not discern,” she said, accepting the goblet of wine Thor pushed into her hands when her voice cracked.  By the nine, she was a warrior she tried to remind herself as she drank deeply.  She was better than this.  “Loki sits on the throne.  He’s a runt, but the men are loyal to him.  To a fault,” she murmured.  She’d not been able to see any signs of distrust or disloyalty in the guards that had brought her to see him, nor in those whom she passed on her way back out.  At first she’d assumed they’d simply been angry to see an Aesir in their midst, but now, considering it?  “He said they will fight until the end if it comes to it.”

“Will he not seek peace?” Odin asked, his voice gruff as he sat opposite Natasha, trying to take in her less than expressive reaction to his question.  She swallowed the rest of her wine, gulping down the hot beverage until she thought she might burn alive from the inside.  

“He will.  He wishes to open trade, as you offered, but more than that he asked . . . he asked for me to stay with him for a year.  Nothing was said about after that,” she realized with a sinking gut.  Fuck.  What if he expected her to stay with him as long as she wanted peace?  Had she doomed herself to a life with him, as his whore or wartrophy, or whatever his deranged mind could think of?  She had began to shake, but not from the cold.  Thor, at her side, was of the same thought.  

“No.  You cannot agree to that,” he said forcefully.  

“I already have.”

He gave a shout of displeasure, his fist hitting the table so hard that it splintered beneath him, while Odin seemed hardly phased by the revelation, his gaze fixed solely on Natasha.  

“If I had not, my prince,” Natasha said, reminding her once lover of the presence of their king, his father.  If he let his emotions get the best of him then it would be bound to give away the secret she’d worked her hardest to keep that way.  Secret.  “He’d have slaughtered us all before we could consider a second option.  He’d have sent you my head, or else kept me at the castle and sent me yours as a reminder of what I’d brought you all to. It’s better this way.”  She said, trying to convince herself of the same.  “Cleaner.  He wishes to treaty with you, Allfather, in two days time,” she said as she looked at him.  “And offered the rest of this week in order to bury and pay homage to our dead and see that our wounded were healed.”

“And you?” Odin asked.  

“I go back there this evening,” she said, not proud of the way her voice shook at the end.  Thor barely looked at her, his back turned to the both of them.  As if that really helped to make her feel better.  Was he so disgusted at what she’d done that he couldn’t stand the sight of her?  Then at least he wouldn’t have long to suffer.  

“Father, let us hit him now,” Thor insisted.  

“Silence.”

“I will not stand for this!” Thor bellowed as he whirled on his father and sovereign, face red as his cape in his fury.  

“Then I will bring you to your knees and drag you to Asgard if I must,” Odin shouted, just as loudly, making Natasha wince.  She’d never seen her king like this.  “Natasha has made her choice and we can do nothing but stand by and support her.  Will you belittle her sacrifice in getting yourself and others killed?” He demanded, standing to stare off against his son.  “Your blood is too hot and your head too large for your shoulders.  Our information was faulty and these are not the weak Jotuns, eager to throw off the yoke of their terrible queen that we had been led to believe they were.  This was to be an easy conquest, Thor, and instead we have taken great losses because of your ignorance and ego.  You will not dishonor Natasha’s choice by continuing your poor choices.  Understood?”

The silence was so thick Natasha thought she might choke on it, watching the two men hate one another in front of her face.  Norns, so this was the rage that she’d been warned of when she was young.  Above she heard the clouds rumble, the storm a clear sign of Thor’s displeasure, but any time the weather had made to rain they’d gotten snow or sleet, the rain freezing their bones as it combined with the harsh winds of the terrain.  She prayed that he wouldn’t fall victim to his own power and bring the storms back.  

“I am asking you, Thor Odinson if you understand the issues laid down for you by your king,” Odin barked once more, and Thor’s gaze darkened.  

“Yes.  Allfather, I understand,” he gritted out before whirling away.  Natasha winced as she heard the thunder rumble and saw the unforgiving strike of lightning as it touched down elsewhere.  It was only a matter of time until the rest followed, and once he was gone she rested her forehead on the table, hands fisting on her knees as she struggled to keep herself together.  

Odin’s hand reached out to grasp her shoulder and squeezed it gently.  “I appreciate your sacrifice for our cause, Lady Natasha,” he said and she sat up straight as he spoke with her.  “You may go.  I will see this princeling in two days and will ensure that you are returned to us after the year is completed,” he said.  “Along with that you will receive full honors upon your return to Asgard.”  

She dipped her head in gratitude, that being about as much as she could consider showing at the moment, and he dismissed her to allow her to rest afterwards.  She took a detour, finding Thor raging in his tent, the other warriors having abandoned him to his fury as the snow had begun to fall.  Again.  She cleared her throat as she stepped through the entrance, ignoring his personal guards’ warnings about his mood.  As if she couldn’t see it.  

He turned at the sound and the rage drained from his face.  “It should be me staying behind.  Not you.”  He said simply, crossing towards her and catching both sides of her face in his hands.  “It was my decision to invade here in the first place.  They weren’t supposed to be this well prepared--I thought, at first, the first army--.”

“That was Helbindi’s,” she murmured.  “I think Loki was waiting for us to pick him off.  Thor, the information, there’s no way that that could have been truthful.  We were led here for this reason.”  She said.  “And the king.  Loki.  He knows it.  I’m going to try and find who the informant was, and if you can, give them Hel from me.”  She said.  He smiled as he stroked the side of her face, leaning in to kiss her.  She allowed it, but didn’t encourage it any further than that, even as he pulled her close to him.  She shook her head and pulled away with some difficulty.  

“Don’t.  Don’t make this more difficult than it already is,” she begged, voice raw.  “Please don’t.  You’ll be married by the time I get back and I don’t--.”

“Natasha, I love you,” Thor said, and the rumbling that had intensified above them broke.  “I need you.  I don’t care about the woman my father set me up with, I want you, and when you come back I want to be with you.  Please,” he begged, kissing her hard again.  She melted against him, going limp in his arms as he carried her back to his bed.  She’d done her damndest to make sure that none of the other soldiers had known about she and Thor, though their flirtations went back for as long as she could even remember, but she’d gotten to her position as lieutenant in the army of her own merit, not because of Thor playing favorites and she’d be damned if any of her credentials were questioned.

Now?  Hel, she wasn’t sure if she’d end up ever seeing him again, no matter how confident the other two were that she’d be returned to Asgard when the year was up.  She was going to take the small pleasures afforded her while she still could.  

 

That evening, as required of her, she returned to Loki’s castle, her head held high, body sporting far more bruises than she had when she’d first been there in far less obvious places.  If Loki did have perversions of his own on his mind then he’d see that she was already claimed, and . . . well, she could only hope it wouldn’t redouble his efforts to take her for his own.  

Granted that left her open for a great deal more problems, such as how he might take it out on her if he thought her spoiled goods, but she really didn’t want to think about that right then.  The king met her in the great hall, where his men were feasting and celebrating their victory, the atmosphere far more positive than Natasha thought she could stomach, even when the noise and cheers went silent as she entered.  Loki’s eyes shone with amusement as he beckoned her closer, and she followed with her chin up, not looking any of the other creatures in the eye.  One of them reached out to grab at her backside, perhaps thinking her a toy to be tossed around to his men, and she snarled before driving a dagger into the man’s wrist.  

Loki laughed.  

“You ought not to provoke her, Petyr,” he teased as the Jotun howled, ripping the blade covered in blue blood out and tossing it to the ground, while the others snorted and teased him for being bested by an Aesir.  The mood lightened, to Natasha’s great surprise, though every muscle in her body was still tense as all get out as she strode towards the king.  There was no seat by his side, and she bit the inside of her cheek as she tried not to feel sick at the idea of kneeling beside him at the table.  

Instead he offered her his lap.  She thought she’d rather take the floor, and was about to say such when he tugged her down onto it either way, firmly planting here there.  

Piss.  

She didn’t dare relax, even as the king beneath her lounged back in his seat, drinking hot spiced wine and offering her pieces of spiced ox from his fingertips.  When she first refused he’d dragged the same claws down her spine, beginning to shred the back of the clean shift she’d chosen after she and Thor had coupled.  

“Refuse me again and I’ll make a great deal of taking you for myself in front of everyone,” he purred into her ear.  

Her teeth hit the metal talons as she accepted the food past her lips, cheeks heating up at the appraising nature of his stare, and wished herself anywhere but there.  Anywhere.  

Save, perhaps, what awaited her after the king decided he was tired.  She had been dozing off and practically falling asleep on his lap for the past hour or so, the Jotuns staying up far later than she’d intended, and though she’d been given wine from Loki’s goblet it had done little to make her any more lively.  So when he’d stood her up and proclaimed that he was going to bed, and taken her wrist in his own to the hooting and hollering of his men, she’d barely had the energy to raise her head at it, eyes drooping as he tugged her along.  

The room she was led to was lavishly furnished, an enormous featherbed standing near the opposite side of the door covered in furs and pillows, and the space itself was lit by odd sconces on the walls that let off a strange green hue, changing the ice into the same color.  An archway led into what would be the bathroom, she assumed, and trunks held books and clothes and maps.

She blamed it on the wine that it took her so long to grasp just where she would be staying, and by that time Loki had aleady shrugged his enormous coat from his shoulders.  Though it took away some of his bulk his frame was still impressive, body well sculpted Nat hated to admit, and though nowhere near as wide as Thor’s he still radiated a sort of subtle power.  

Again, she blamed the wine for the way her thoughts were turning as she wrapped her arms around her waist while he stripped, unabashed to show her his naked form.  She hated him for it, especially when he turned to her as though expecting the same thing.  

“I sleep with my clothes on.”  She muttered.  

“Really?  Then how does Thor get to you if you remain covered up each night?” He snarked, stepping closer and bringing his fingers to the ties of her trousers.  She tried to push his hands away, opening her mouth to tell him his information was wrong, and he stopped her fingers where they met the laces.  “You do it or I will,” he said, not interested in her false modesty.  “I’ll not have you hidden from me.  You’re mine for the year,” he murmured, leaning closer to murmur the words in her ear, worrying at her earlobe with his teeth.  

As if she’d ever forget it.  Fingers sloppy and slow, she stripped herself down and turned away from him as she stepped towards the bed and promptly dove into it, covering herself up with one of the white furs left there.  His quiet laugh echoed in her ears along with her furious heartbeat as he crawled into bed beside her and tugged her closer.  One of his arms wrapped around her midsection and pulled her back against his chest, his skin cool enough to make her shiver, goosebumps covering her skin as the rest of her body went rigid.  He wished her a good night with a soft kiss planted at the base of her neck before falling into a light sleep himself, Nat following slowly after, the emotional and physical exhaustion coupled with the liquor making it impossible to keep from molding her body against his as she relaxed, or at least she told herself that.  

 _‘Tomorrow, I’ll kill him,’_ she swore before everything else faded out.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins the second alternate universe. Thanks so much for sticking with me through the wait, and I hope it's worth it thus far! :DD
> 
> For those of us who are more visual, and because this art work is way too perfect I can't find enough words to describe how amazing Loki looks in it (seriously, I tried my best but it doesn't come close to comparing): http://avali.tumblr.com/post/22496260942/because-i-was-born-to-rule-i-just-needed-an  
> This is what I'm attempting to convey, this utter amazingness


	5. 2.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, sorry this took so long and I hope it's worth it! I had a lot of fun writing this (though a good portion of it was written at work when we were dead slow xD) and hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do!

Her first two days with the Jotun king yielded few results when it came to making good on her promise to herself to end his life, even as she tried to learn the ins and outs of the castle, attempting to figure out its weaker points and where it would be easiest to mount an attack.  Though it didn't help her grow nearer to her goal of ending him, it gave her some semblance of peace to imagine there would be a day she could pay him back in full for what he’d done to her and her people.  It was the least she could do to handle all of his gloating as he took her to bed each night.  

On the second day Odin and Thor showed up to go over the treaty that had been discussed, and Natasha found it impossible to keep anything down.  Though Thor had seen her in various states, had seen her bloodied up from battle, bruised from fighting, rosy-cheeked and bare beneath him, she’d rather he see her dead than how she’d been instructed to stay for the meeting.  Loki had dressed her in a thin shift, green in hue, and the hem of it hardly hit her navel as it tied around her neck and met in the back, the second tie between her shoulder blades.  The skirt she’d been given had high slits on either side of her legs, showing the scratches and bite marks he’d given her the night before, teasing her with his lips and teeth all over her body but never letting her climax, nor had he taken his own.  Her hair had been braided in the same fashion as the other Jotun women, and when Thor and Odin entered she kept her eyes downcast.  She didn’t want to see the horror in his eyes, or the disgust she was certain would follow.  He’d talked before of wanting to be with her, but would he again once everything was pieced together?

From where she stood at Loki’s side, forced there by his demand, she could hear her once lover as he drew closer.  “I’ll kill you for touching her.”  The threat was a low hiss, but it resonated with disgust that Nat had been afraid of.  He hated her, dammit all, and she couldn’t blame him.  

“Be careful.  I’m a king, princeling,” the Jotun said with a lilt in his voice and she knew he was smirking from the way the words fell.  Ass.  “Your lovely friend is staying with me, and you don’t want to cause another war, do you?” He asked.  Nat chanced a look up at the pair of them and watched as Thor tensed and opened his mouth to say something that likely would’ve ended in another brawl had Odin not clasped him on the back and tugged him away.  Natasha tried not to shiver at Loki’s side, the jotun forcing her there with a hard stare, and she watched as Thor tried to keep from shaking with his fury.  She’d seen him rip a man in half when he was that enraged, and now?  Well, she wasn’t certain what would happen after this meeting, nor that she wanted to know.  A pang of pity washed through her for the next idiot who dared make him angry.  

Whether Loki didn’t know or simply didn’t care, he pressed on with it as though nothing had happened.  Odin was all too keen to do the same.  They spoke in swift, short words, words about trade and what was best for the realms, about requirements to be fulfilled at the soonest possible time that went far over Natasha’s head when it came to matters of the state.  About Loki’s request for the casket of ancient winters back, and Odin’s less than enthusiastic agreement to return it so long as certain guidelines were followed.  Each time, Natasha felt her heart skip a beat, certain that this time when Odin twitched he would finish what was started between them.  

And each time she was disappointed as Gungnir didn’t move and Loki’s head stayed attached to his shoulders.  

The meeting didn’t last long after the actual document was drawn up and signed off on, and all too soon Thor was being all but dragged out of the room by Odin.  Natasha bit her tongue to keep herself from crying out to him, leveling her gaze with his one last time before they left.  A year.  They could make it a year, she had to remind herself.  She would just have to be smart enough to endure it.  

 

She didn’t get a chance to see any of the Aesir before they left again, the Bifrost calling them home and leaving her behind, a supposed ambassador to a realm she had no idea what to expect from.  To say it made her nervous was a severe understatement, though she hid those emotions from Loki, even as he tried to coax them out of her each meal time and evening they spent together.  In between those she did everything in her power, due to her current position, to avoid him, whether it was overseeing the creation of the goods to be traded to Asgard, ensuring their quality so that her people didn’t get screwed out of anything else, or else watching with bated breath and a nervous heart as the Casket was brought back into Jotunheim.  Her eyes flitted from the box to the king who received it with a wide grin, his long, slim fingers slipping around the handles and holding it tight in his grip.  She half expected him to freeze everything within sight, but he only took a deep breath, thanked the Aesir guards who had brought it to him, and sent them on their way.  

Natasha, recognizing Fandral among those who’d been escorting the relic into the home of the frost giants, offered to walk with them back to the Bifrost site.  Loki, too enraptured with his newest toy, hardly noticed as she left.  How easy would it be to simply leave and not come back?

But if the Casket was all he’d wanted, he’d simply have settled for it rather than throwing her into the bargain as well.  Bastard.  

Fandral looked pleased enough to see her, and they kept their voices down as they walked through the city, garnering curious looks from the other Jotunar that were out and about for the day.  Natasha pulled her furs a little tighter around herself, refusing to go anywhere without them even if she didn’t need them.  What the Jotuns took to be clothing was little more than scraps of cloth sewn together and held in place by good luck; she might not have been ashamed of her body but she certainly wasn’t going to show it off to these monsters.  

“How is the king, and Thor?” She asked, eyes curious and a little afraid if she was honest.  

“The skies of Asgard have been nothing but storms for the past few days, Thor brooding far longer than I remember him ever doing before.  Frigga is doing all she can to placate him, as are we all, but since you’ve been gone, and the crushing defeat here, nothing has lifted his spirits.”  Fandral murmured.  “I fear he may do something rash again, but we keep a close eye on him to make sure he doesn’t.”  

“Good,” she said with a nod of her head.  The last thing she wanted was him getting himself killed because he thought she was in more danger than she was.  “Assure him that I can take care of myself?”

“I don’t think there’s a doubt in his mind that you can,” Fandral assured her.  “But that’s not what he’s worried about, Natasha.  You and I both know that.”  

She sighed quietly.  Yes, she did, but she didn’t want to think about that.  “Nothing has happened of that sort, but I do not doubt it will happen before the year is up.  I need to get close to him.  Once I am, I will be able to learn the weaknesses of this castle, where we can attack from soonest should the need arise.”  And it would once she got back.  She’d be damned if she let Loki get away with what he’d done to her people.  “I have a plan, Fandral, but it will take a year to ripen and Thor must be patient.  Gather our forces, make peace with the other realms to present a united front against the Jotuns.  With the Casket and as high of numbers as they have, and as loyal as they are to their king, I fear that it may soon be that they will be the ones conquering, and us the ones suing for more peace.  I cannot bear it.”  

“Nor I,” Fandral agreed though his face was heavy.  Natasha reached out to clasp it between her own, and stood on her toes to bring her lips to the top of his forehead.  

“This is not the end of us, or our people,” she assured him.  “We will grow stronger still and take back what is ours by right,” she promised, keeping her voice as silent as she could manage so he could still hear, and even then the promise was little more than a whisper.  

“Your council is always a boon, my lady,” Fandral said when they pulled away, finally at the edge where he would be called up to home, and Natasha . . . Natasha would be left behind to plan and wile away her time.  

“Please be certain that Thor sees it as such,” she said with a swift nod, before finally releasing him and letting him walk towards the runes that had been carved into the snow, the only proof that the Aesir had come back.  He and the other guard disappeared in a flash of rainbow light, and the wind seemed to whip around Natasha all the tighter.  Norns, she hated it here, but with her own plan ringing in her ear and playing on her subconscious she reminded herself that she had a job to do and turned on her heel to return to her captors.  

 

She managed to track Loki down to the study after she’d made her way back to the castle, standing in the doorway and watching as he poured over books about the Casket, about its abilities and powers judging from the pictures detailing just how to hold it and use it.  It might’ve been near endearing if he’d been anyone else.

“My lord,” she murmured as way of getting his attention, and his eyes snapped up seconds later though they were deep with distrust.  Perhaps not the best of ways to start the day off, never having done it before.   _‘Stupid mistake.’_  

“Yes, Natasha?”

“I was wondering if I might spar with some of the lieutenants, or if you would give them the command to spar with me.  I cannot be out of practice for very long, and I’m not sure they would listen to me without your support,” she admitted, leveling her gaze with his and watching as the corners of his lips quirked upwards.  

“It must absolutely destroy you to think that you need me,” he gloated.  “And this is something you want badly, is it not?”

“Yes.”  No use hiding it.  

“I can think of other ways in which you might get the same quality of exercise.”  He said as his eyebrows rose, the metal of his fingertips tapping on the tabletop.  She swallowed her rage at his offering, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.  Damn him, he would, but it made sense.  It would be easier that way, she knew, even as she felt her skin crawl at the idea.  

“I’m not sure those suggestions would exhaust me as a good fight would,” she said, words cool.  She wasn’t sure whether she was trying to flirt or goad him, watching as his nostrils flared at the challenge and he rose smoothly before rounding on her.  

“Besides.  You know that wasn’t what I meant.”  She said and her eyes narrowed, certain that with him already on the defense from her using the formalities he’d be keeping a sharper eye on her.  The last thing she needed was him to get suspicious, though, and her mind spun as she struggled to come up with a quick plan of action.  If she needed him to trust her enough to talk, well she needed to make him happy, and, well, she was very good at making men happy.  She couldn’t imagine a Jotun would be much different.  If anything she imagined they would be more bestial, more virile if it was possible.  She arched her back slightly as she shifted from foot to foot and watched as his pupils dilated slightly.  Good.  She forced herself to make a show of taking a deep, supposedly calming breath, and watched his gaze follow the rise and fall of her chest.  He closed in on her and she tipped her chin upwards as a show of defiance.  He ate it up as she knew he would, and his lips twisted in a smirk as he caught her chin in a tight grip.  

“Oh, you are a clever one,” he murmured.  She allowed her eyes to widen in not entirely false fear, her heart speeding up as she stared at him.  There was no possible way.  Was there?  No, she was too good.  She hoped.  

Uninhibited by her momentary fear, he gave a deep laugh, whole body quaking gently with the noise.  “You do what you can to hide what you desire, what you crave.”  He ran his thumb over her bottom lip and she shivered from the chill of it.  That was what she told herself, at least, and the truth behind it only added to the act.  “But I can see through that my darling Natasha.  Your desires are far more volcanic,” he bared his teeth in a grin that made her stomach do a jig, and his free hand had managed to snake up to her hair, taking a fistful and tugging it as his last words lowered themselves to the faintest whisper.  “You would burn me alive if given the chance.”  She gasped at the movement, the shock of pain from her scalp setting a fire between her thighs that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with.  He closed in on her further, moving to mouth his way down the side of her face, teeth gentle as they tugged at her earlobe.  The moan that left her mouth, she hated to realize, was genuine, and she felt the evidence of how much he enjoyed it as well pressed up to her thigh.  Though they slept together since she’d been there, she’d never once taken a look at what was between his legs, not wanting to entertain the idea of one day having to deal with it, or him in that sense.  Her heart skipped a beat at the length now poking her hard.  Damn.  

“I’d burn your whole fucking kingdom to the ground if only you wouldn’t find a way to slither your way from the flames and take your place as king of the ashes,” she spat, tugging away from him.  He was having none of that, and when his teeth sunk into her neck, the exact same place where Thor’s had on her last night with him, her knees went weak and she let out a low, guttural groan.   _‘Fuck.’_

“Perhaps I’d stay and relish your fire,” he murmured.  “If only because when it’s all said and done, you would still be mine.”  

She lashed out, and it was stupid, and impulsive, but she belonged to no one.  Not even Thor.  The crack of her hand against his face made them both stumble apart, Natasha’s cheeks flushed and Loki’s pupils almost fully blown, his lips swollen from where he’d been kissing her skin.  Natasha’s handprint was outlined in darker blue on his cheek and she struggled not to actually freak out at what she’d done.  She’d struck him.  It had all been fun and games, she supposed, but she’d never lashed out at him before.  Fuck.  What if that made him go back on the deal?  

Hell, what if it ended her life?

Before she could even consider stammering out an apology--because dammit she would not apologize for refusing to put up with his horseshit--he grabbed the wrist of the hand that had struck him and tugged her closer with it.  Though one of her hands pressed hard against his chest, trying to push him away, he crashed his lips onto hers, tugging at the bottom lip with his teeth in order to make her groan and open up to him.  She was surprised at how warm his mouth was, and how damn good he was at using his tongue to make her weak-kneed once more, so that by the time she finally let herself go he was already clearing things off of the desk that he’d been studying on.  She hiked herself up on it, and her fingernails bit into his back as he shoved the furs from her shoulders and laid the cloak out back behind her.  A kind gesture, she supposed, one she greatly appreciated once he pushed her backwards onto what would’ve otherwise been a frigid surface.  He followed her down, ripping at the thin top he’d provided her, little more than a band of cloth around her breasts, and mouthed at the soft skin once it was freed, taking each nipple into his mouth in turn to suck and tease and nibble at them.  She groaned and wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into his back to try and get him towards where she now, earnestly, wanted him.  Damn him.  

“Look at you,” he said when he pulled away, still grinning.  “So persistant, yet I knew you would fall to me.  It was only a matter of time until you disregarded the pressures of your race.”  

She gritted her teeth.  He was far more attractive when he wasn’t being a pompous ass, and she glared down at him.  Was he going to get on with the whole purpose of this, or would she have to take matters into her own damn hands?  She gripped tight at the furs as he kissed and bit his way across her hips, sucking at the skin until it reddened and he practically purred with happiness.  Strange.  He nuzzled her inner thigh and ran his tongue lightly against her slit, pushing aside the two pieces of connected fabric he’d called a skirt that she’d been made to wear, and she keened as her back arched.  

“So wet for me.  I doubt any Aesir man can please you as I am about to.  You’ll never want anyone but me once I am done with you--I shall ruin any other lover you may think you wish, and only when you are left unsatisfied again and again will you know who you truly--.”

“Shut up,” she snarled and reached down to grab him by the hair, tugging up upwards though she desperately wanted him to put his tongue to decent use where it had been before.  With her legs now wrapped around his torso once more, she shifted her hips and raised herself up on her arms, throwing Loki off balance and toppling him to the ground, Natasha atop him.  She took his hands and pinned them down at his sides, her eyes never leaving his shocked ones.  With a swift, easy swivel of her hips, the fabric of his own loincloth shifted out of her way, she took him into her, having to clench her jaw to keep from shouting at surprise.  She knew he’d be big,  but Norns he filled her up in all the ways he promised, damn him.  Her eyes fluttered shut as she sank the rest of the few inches, tipping her hips forward so that the fat head of his member hit that perfect spot within her.  This was always Thor’s favorite position, as well as hers.  In the field he was a monster, a beast that could not be tamed.  Beneath her attentions he purred and mewled like a kitten, the same way she was determined to make Loki.  He thought himself above her?  He had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.  

His surprised expression told her just as much.  

“You talk far too much, my king,” she said, sneering as she addressed him by the title.  “Not nearly enough fucking.  You make all these grand promises, and you have the size to match, but do you have the discipline or the skill to make me happy?  Your silver tongue is worth nothing if you have not the skill to back it up.”  She said, shifting so that she could raise herself onto her haunches and off of him, grinning when his back arched and his hips tried to rise with hers, until she slammed herself back down hard enough to make stars cross her vision.  Loki, too, gasped for breath, lips parted to try and suck in the air faster, and something . . . something about this felt as though she’d done it before.  Almost out of instinct she took one of his hands in hers and removed the talons from two of his fingers, throwing them to the ground before sticking them in her mouth and sucking hard.  Her teeth grazed the fingertips and he gave a soft whimper from beneath her, before she removed the now slicked up digits and pressed them to the nub of nerves between her legs.  He got the hint without a second prompting and as he stroked her she felt herself tighten around him, her breath growing shorter.  With her other free hand she moved to wrap her fingers around his throat, tightening as he started to push back up against her, thrusting up and into her just as hard as she was falling down onto him.  He growled with each move, and when he made to move his other hand Natasha removed her hand from his throat and pressed his wrist back down.  

“Don’t you dare,” she snarled, grinding her hips down hard, the movement answered with Loki taking her clit between his two fingers and squeezing gently until she nearly screamed.

He didn’t fight it from then on, simply giving her whatever she asked for.  When she told him she wanted him to fuck her harder, he responded in kind with thrusts that might’ve broken her pelvis had their positions been reversed, and as she came with a shuddering shout, her whole body tightening around him, he gnashed his teeth and staved off his own orgasm.  She forced him to endure two more rounds of that before she gave him permission to come, and when he did the bellow about shook the room’s foundations, Loki spilling deep inside her.  

She didn’t slump against him like she wanted to, and instead crawled off of his torso and moved to position herself over his mouth.  “Clean me up,” she murmured, stroking his hair with both of her hands before positioning his face so that his nose was pressed to her skin and his tongue had nowhere to go but inside her.  His eyes never left hers, though, and it only made the color rise higher in her cheeks when she saw how glazed with lust they were.  Who would’ve known that the Jotun Ice King had a penchant for being dominated?  She came with a shuddering sigh one last time, her whole body trembling with the aftershocks as she pulled away from him, kissing his come-slicked mouth and tasting them both on his lips.  It was enough to make her shudder with glee before she forced herself to stand on shaky legs.  He’d destroyed her top, so she pulled at the furs from where they’d been left on the table and shrugged them on, tightening them to cover her bare chest.  

“You know, Loki, you talk a great deal about how brave you are, how strong your men and you are, and how dominant you think you can be.  In reality, though?”  She smirked and dragged her foot along the side of his face gently, the pale white of her skin looking all the more crisp against his blue skin.  He twisted his head slightly to lean into her touch and it, somehow, made the fire begin anew in her stomach.  “You’re nothing but a little boy who needs all the attention he can get.  I suppose it’ll make things easier for us both if I just give it to you.  Once you’ve finished working for it, of course.”  

Without another word she sauntered out of the room, ignoring how he shouted at her to come back and explain yourself.  Oh no.  It would be far more beneficial to just let him stew over it himself.  Far more.  If he thought he had to impress her he would begin to talk, to show her things he wouldn’t realize could be used against him, and so long as she kept him distracted with sex then there was no reason why she wouldn’t be able to craft an intelligent scheme to find the realm’s weaknesses.  

 

 


	6. 2.3

Things, admittedly, got a little bit better from then on.  His ego had been so ridiculous that Natasha found herself having to put him in his place on more than one occasion a day, and often was left wondering whether he acted out intentionally or out of spite for the way for the way she had treated him.  The argument for the latter usually fell away quickly.  If Loki didn’t want her treating him the way that she was, well, he’d have done something about it.  Wouldn’t he?  She couldn’t imagine her head would stay affixed to her shoulders for long if he didn’t like taking a few slaps across the face every so often.  Besides, he always had that damn self-satisfied grin on his face afterwards, so much so that she had to stop pleasing him so much and find actual punishments when he decided to run his mouth off when they were alone or boast about his own accomplishments.  Really how someone could be so self-centered and self-proud was astounding, and irritating to the extreme.

Though she’d thought the first time they fucked would be one of the few, rare times it would happen, she soon began to lose count with how often they went at it, not having anticipated that Loki was almost relying on her reactions.  If he went too long without at least getting her attention he grew antsy, a particular problem when she was trying to get work done elsewhere in the realm and he was stuck listening to the complaints of his subjects.  Not that he wasn’t a good king, perhaps even great though she hated to admit it.  He listened patiently to the problems brought before him, assisted them however he could, but when she would walk in after being gone since breakfast, and it was well cutting into dinner time, it was impossible for her not to notice the way his right leg bounced with excess energy, metal fingertips clinking against the ice of his throne.  His red eyes would immediately zero in on Natasha and he would bark for whomever it was to leave as soon as he had fixed their problem, before standing and striding to her side.  

On this particular day, halfway through her third month she assumed without having any sort of way to count or tell how long it had been, he hadn’t even wanted to wait until they left the throne room.  With the others gone, including the guards she swore she always saw, his attention turned wholly to her.

“I need you,” he growled in her ear, reaching down to grab a handful of her backside.  She slapped his hand away and drove her fist into his jaw, which only made him laugh.  She’d not been able to find many weaknesses.  

Hadn’t been whole-heartedly looking if she was honest.  But it was fine. They still had time.  

Right?  

One of his hands caught her wrist again, kissing the skin  and running his jaw alongside the soft underside of it.  She suppressed a shudder as best she could before yanking it back and glaring.  “You really think you deserve that?”  She asked, her eyes narrowing.  “You’re too proud by far.”

“So take me down a few pegs,” he murmured, catching her chin in his hand and pressing his lips to hers, cradling the side of her face.  The sharper tips of his fingers caught on her skin and she groaned at the pleasure and sharp thrill of it.  He could rip her throat out with those and she wouldn’t have a second to fight it, would bleed out long before she could react, and yet he kissed her as though his life depended on it.  

Went to his knees in front of her as though he was born to it.  The sight of this enormous man bent before her, blue muscle rippling with his effort to keep good and still for her nearly made her own knees grow weak.  Her mouth went dry and she couldn’t help herself from groaning quietly when his lips traced the flat planes of her abdomen, bared courtesy of the little clothing Jotun women traditionally wore, nipping at the goosebump covered skin.  The fur she wore to protect herself from the cold fell, and Natasha’s hands caught in Loki’s hair, tugging his head up.  One eyebrow rose and he stilled beneath her immediately.  

“Who is in control here, Loki?”  She asked, voice quiet.  She watched his adam’s apple bob with his labored breathing, watched the blood rush to his cheeks at the way her lips formed around his name.  

“You are--ack,” he faltered slightly as she tugged him all the closer and pushing his head to the side, exposing his throat to her. “You are, madam.”   He shifted his weight, and she could already see the tip of his cock jutting out from under the loincloth he wore.  She tried not to let herself salivate at the memory of what it felt like having that inside her.  He wanted to be brought down a peg?  So be it.  She released him and stepped towards the throne, tipping her hips from side to side, removing the thin skirt that had hugged her hips as she walked and kicking it to the ground to ensure she kept his attention as she moved.  As though he’d really be able to take his eyes off.  She thought she heard him get up from his knees and turned to watch him rising slowly to his feet.  

“No,” she said, keeping her voice quiet.  Authoritative.  He’d have to lean closer to hear what she was saying fully, and she wanted him at her mercy.  “Down.”  

He hesitated, then sank back to his hands and knees, licking his lips eagerly.  She walked backwards to the enormous ice throne he’d had carved for himself upon his ascension, and sat herself down, legs spread wide the same way that he kept his at all times.  She smirked as he shifted in his place, and beckoned him closer with one finger.  He started to rise again but she shook her head, pointing to the ground.  She wanted him to crawl, as he would’ve made her do if he hadn’t been so infatuated with her being on top of him.  There was a moment of hesitation, and Natasha swore he was going to call it off any second.  

He shifted over onto his palms and padded towards her, knees scuffling on the ice floor, his red eyes never leaving hers as he crossed towards her.  Her breath caught in her throat at the sight, the heat pooling all the stronger between her legs at the sight.  This high-born, strong king crawled to _her_ , got on his hands and knees because it pleased _her_ , kept his mouth silent and yielded to _her_.  She shifted in her seat, and when he got closer she beckoned him to rise to his knees so she could kiss him fiercely on the mouth.  Tongue and teeth and raw desire clashed as her hands ran down his back, scratching it until he snarled with the pain of the skin breaking.  If anything it made him surge harder against her, swallowing her whole as she grabbed him by the throat and squeezed, before pulling him away.  

“Stand,” she ordered, voice ragged with want, and she followed suit as he got to his feet.  He allowed her to place him back in his throne without saying a word, her hand reaching out to wrap around his cock before she slowly seated herself atop him, her legs on either side of the wide throne, the cloth covering his lower torso pushed to the side.  He gasped to have her around him, hot and tight, before she moved his hands onto her hips.  

“Fuck me,” she demanded, licking her lips.  He didn’t need a second command, immediately lowering her further onto him, doing all the work as he bounced her up and down off his cock.  She arched her back, pulling her top off to give him a hell of a show, and it wasn’t long before he bent forward to try and mouth at her breasts.  She shoved him back with one hand on his throat again, pinning it against the back of the chair and snarling.  

“Don’t you dare,” she threatened.  “You follow my orders, _my king_ ,” she snarked, the words dripping with sarcasm as she dug her fingers into his skin.  He let out a low whimper, the noise going right to her groin and making her keen with want as he drove into her again and again, holding her in place while his hips pistoned in and out.  

“Make me come, Loki,” she demanded as his fingers tightened, and the scratches only blurred the lines between the pleasure and pain, bringing her orgasm crashing through her body.  She went tight around him, and he hissed as he fought off his own climax, refusing to come until she allowed him to.  Such a good boy.  She crooned in his ear how perfect he felt inside of her, rolling her hips now before giving him permission to chase his own pleasure.  If she thought he had been determined it was nothing compared to how he worked her then.  With a snarl he took her legs in his hands and wrapped them around his midsection, cupping her bottom as he thrust even harder and faster into her.  It was all she could do to keep hold of him, screaming as her second orgasm hit her like a hammer on an anvil, making her body rock with the aftershocks.  He followed shortly after, Natasha’s cunt having tightened around him enough to coax his release.  

For a moment neither said a word, Natasha wrapped so tight around Loki’s body she feared she wouldn’t be able to break free, Loki nuzzling the side of her neck.  “I don’t want you to ever leave,” he murmured against her skin.  She couldn’t find it in her to stiffen though her stomach bottomed at the sentiment.  Was he stupid?  

“Do you think I’m here because I want to be?”  She asked, pulling away and staring at him.  Honestly?  Her brow pulled tight, and his own gaze flickered with sadness.  Darkened.  

“I understand you aren’t.”  He said, and it was his turn to pull away from her.  “That does not mean that I wish you to leave.  You are useful.”

“Yes, I’m a convenient little fuck buddy, aren’t I?”  She spat, indignation fueling her body to pull away from him.  He gave a soft gasp as she pulled off and stood up.  She looked over, stepping towards where she’d dropped her skirt, but his hand caught her by the shoulder before she could.  

“You know that isn’t what I meant,” he growled, his eyes narrowing as he tugged her back.  This time when her fist hit his nose she felt it crack beneath her, and he ignored the blue blood that spurted from his nostrils in favor of tipping her chin up and smashing his lips against hers again.  She pushed him away, spitting in anger.  “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t give a shit what you want,” she said, her voice getting louder in her anger.  “You can’t think that you own me--I don’t belong to you, don’t you fucking get that?”  What was there to understand, and why couldn’t he get it through his damn skull?  He barely let it affect him, though she watched the vein in his temple twitch at her words.  

“You care for me,” he said with eyes narrowed.  “You wouldn’t do--you wouldn’t even think about what you and I have done if you didn’t feel something for me.”

“Maybe if you’d get your head out of your ass and stop being so full of yourself there’d be more to feel for,” she spat back.  “As it is I’m sick of you treating me as though I’m an object.  I am a person, my own. individual being.  You do not get the right to tell me what I can and cannot do, that you will stop me when I wish to do something, or try and influence or control my actions in anyway.  Maybe you’d have a chance at being a half-decent man.”  

With a final tug she managed to get herself free, turning to grab her skirt from the ground just as the doors opened, and Thor stood in the entrance hall.  

 

 

 

Natasha sat up with a gasp of breath and eyes wide in surprise, her heart going a hundred miles an hour it felt.  Though she was awake her eyes wouldn’t open, replaying Thor’s stunned, hurt face as he saw Natasha half naked with the Jotun King just behind her, the evidence of their coupling sliding down her legs, and yet at the same time she could hear Clint in her ear telling her that she was alright, she was safe.  Hands stroked at her hair, tangling in the red curls as she managed to finally pry her eyes open and stare at the same walls of the infirmary that she’d been laid down in.  Loki didn’t look as though he’d woken up this time, though his muscles were tense and the machine monitoring his heart showed that it was going faster than normal.  So he was still in the dream, then.  Her heart went out for him, grateful for when she woke up, and determined to go back under to try and get another dream going.  Two down, hopefully not many more to go.  

“Natasha,” Bruce’s voice came from the side, and her head turned slowly to look at him.  “Are you alright?  You’re white as a ghost.”  

She swore she could feel Thor’s angry, hurt eyes on her still, yet when she looked around the Asgardian was nowhere to be seen.  Thankfully.  She didn’t want to see him, not right then at least.

“Fine,” she gulped.  “Put me under again.  He needs to get out of that dream.  Trust me.”  

Bruce met Clint’s eyes, and Clint shot a sadistic look in Loki’s direction.  Nat reached out and wrapped her hand around his wrist.  

“I mean it.  Put me under.”

They laid her back soon after, Bruce turning the dial on the machine once more as the world--the real one--went out of focus, and Natasha slipped into unconsciousness once more.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends part two! I admit this chapter was mostly gratuitous sex, and I apologize for that but I couldn't help myself. I had a mighty need and I saw an opportunity. Hope you enjoyed it regardless and thanks for reading!


	7. 3.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY freaking updated. Sorry about the delay, but I hope it's worth it! Thanks for reading!

She stank of blood and liquor, of sweat and smoke from last night’s fire, of horse piss and the forest she’d ridden through all last night just to climb the steps of her foster father’s castle.  She could barely feel the ache in her thighs, or her feet, as she soldiered forward, arms weighed down with the heavy gifts she’d sworn she’d bring to Ivan.  Succeeded in bringing him, where all others had failed.  Proof of the progress in his campaign.  Those who attended on him pulled themselves from her wake as quickly as possible, heads bowing though their eyes were blown wide at the spectacle Natasha had created.  She swallowed their surprise whole, grinning, feeling the chapped skin of her lips split as her blood joined that which had been caked on.  Her hair hung ragged around her face, yet nothing could deter the look of triumph on Ivan’s face, could hide the slashed wide open grin as her king caught sight of her, the doors having opened to allow her in without issue.  

“What tribute is this?”  Ivan murmured, sitting forward in his throne, fingers, once steepled, clutching the edges of the armrest till his knuckles whitened.  His brown eyes brightened to watch her raise the heads of the kings who’d offended him, never minding how her arms ached or her chest swelled with emotion from the way he stared at her, as though there wasn’t anyone else in the world.  Even his advisors, those naysayers who urged him to seek peace--peace!--were silent with wonder.  How was it she had accomplished so much yet had only taken the month?  

“These imbeciles defied you, my king,” Natasha intoned, voice near emotionless as she stared up at him, eyes for no one but him.  His approval fed the ache in her bones and her chest, the same that had been there since he’d found her as a youth five years ago, blank-eyed and broken from the way the men of her past had used and abused her.  Now she knelt in front of her foster father, her King, exonerated and lighter, more fulfilled than she had been in her whole.  Ivan rose in his chair and stepped down to stand before her.  His fingers moved to her chin, raising her to face him, then further prompting her to stand.

“You have made me very proud, Natasha,” he assured her, voice filled with a strange affection akin to pride.  It made her heart thrum, her joy magnified by his.  His thumb brushed her cheek, and had she been willing to break her silence or her stoic facade she’d have rubbed against his palm out of affection.  

“I am happy to be of service to you, my king,” she assured him, voice gravel from not having used it for so long.  No need to speak to dead men, even if they hadn’t been dead when she’d first met them.  He released her chin, stepping back as he deposited the heads at the foot of his chair.  His servants would mount them to the gates of the city soon enough, a warning to anyone who dared defy Ivan.

“Their cities are leaderless now, my king,” on of Ivan’s generals said with a wide grin from the side, as if he, alone, was intelligent enough to arrive at that conclusion.  Why Ivan surrounded himself with these idiots was beyond Natasha, she could barely keep from rolling her eyes.  

Ivan smirked.  “Yes, they are.  Natasha.  How soon can you be ready to be on the move?”

She stiffened, her gaze snapping onto him.  She’d expected him to speak to his generals, consult those around him.  That he addressed her?  Well.  She beamed internally.  

“How soon do you need me, my king?”

“Ivan you cannot be serious--.”  

“She knows nothing--.”

“A handful of victories--.”

“Is more than you buffoons have put together.  Natasha, you will ride tomorrow to the north, to meet up with our allies.  There you will meet with their king, Loki, and discuss our terms of engagement.  He will provide troops and you will lead them into battle to finish conquering the city-states without a system of government.”  

Ivan’s voice offered no alternative to the affronted looking men beside him, and Natasha couldn’t help the pride that clouded her brain for a moment.  Her.  A general picked above all others.  It was about damn time, and so long as this business with Loki went well enough, well, it ought to have led the way to more.

 

Ivan sent her out the very next morning, traveling without any sort of retinue as the men who followed her father would have.  All of them were pompous swine as far as she was concerned, unfit to lick the mud from her foster father’s boots, and the sooner she could secure King Loki’s assistance with furthering Ivan’s campaign, then the sooner she could make her way back.  She didn’t wish to leave him with those idiots for too long, never certain just how deep their loyalties lay.  Hell, she didn’t trust much of anyone but Ivan, and so spurred her horse all the faster.  Not that she had any clue as to what Loki needed her for, but she was certain it wouldn’t take too long.  

As it was, she found the king to be rather lax and his defenses sorely lacking by themselves.  Why Ivan would send her here was obvious--the bastard needed all the help he could et.  Nat had at least a dozen chances to jump his paltry five guards leading her forward, and half a dozen more to slip away from them undetected.  Perhaps he enjoyed the challenge a warrior might bring, and so left them open to look forward for a fight or an attempt on his life.  She could understand that.  

The man sitting with legs akimbo on the throne, however, did not strike her as such a man.  He sat with a woman perched on his lap, sucking a liquid that looked like wine from the hollow of her collarbone, and already Natasha felt the bile rise in her throat.  This was what she had to work with?  

“Natasha Romanov, sent by King Ivan Petrovich, your grace,” one of her guards said, looking apologetic for interrupting.  Why, Nat didn’t understand.  It wasn’t as if he was doing anything important.  The King, if that’s what he wanted to call himself, jolted, shoving the woman off of his lap and setting th goblet to the side as he rose.  

“Ah, the infamous Natasha  Welcome.”  He opened his arms, as though expecting her to run into them and embrace him.  Did he honestly think she would?  “I had not expected you for another day, the ride can be so long.”

“I made time well enough,” she assured him, her voice dripping with a confidence many were surprised to find she had.  She wasn’t afraid of demonstrating just how strong she was, never hid behind her femininity, only embraced it and used it to her advantage.  To any man who thought she couldn’t unleash hell upon them at her whim, they found themselves very quickly on their back.  

“Yes, you did,” he said with an easy grin.  “I’m surprised by it.  Don’t you know a thing about relaxing?”

“No.” She said simply, keeping her voice curt and her eyes narrowed as she stared at him.  That took him aback, and he stared at her with an open mouth for a half moment.  She doubted anyone had ever talked to him like this, but the more frank she was then perhaps the better off they’d be.  Anything to get this meeting over with as soon as she could.  

“Well perhaps I ought to teach you.”  

Ah, now came the lines Natasha was familiar with.  She wasn’t unaware of the effect she had.  She was a woman who fought, a woman in shape, shapely if the bawdy tales the other men told one another were anything to be going off of.  She carried herself with the same confidence men seemed to prefer, yet when confronted she was nothing like what they seemed to have expected.  She was not some passive maiden to lie on her back because of sweet, useless words, nor was she keen to put a child in her belly and ruin everything she’d been fighting towards.  And no matter how often she said no, the only word that was understood was ‘yes.’  

Most men that tried to press themselves on her further ended up a few pints of blood, or even appendages, lighter.  Loki, if he was not the prince that he was, was not as necessary to Ivan as he was, would’ve suffered the same fate.  “I don’t think you understand quite why I was brought here,” Natasha said, keeping her voice quiet as the grave while staring him down.  He blinked, and the volume she’d reduced herself to forced him to lean closer, obviously taken by surprise by her lack of a response.  “King Loki, I am here to assist you in bringing your brother’s kingdom to heel, or to the ground depending on how the situation goes, under the pact and promise that when the kingdom is yours you will assist my king in his own campaign.  If you wish for a harlot to warm your bed and croon between your thighs at how mighty and powerful you are then I am not the woman you wish to attempt to court.”  She gritted her teeth with the force of her words, hoping he might at least begin to take her seriously.  

Her hopes, it seemed, were far too high.  Though his flirtations diminished in the sense that he adhered to laws of propriety and discretion they were no less as frequent as the first day she met him.  Each day they met at the war council, and he would subtly take the seat beside her, no matter where it was she’d settled, as though he needed her there at his side, as though his dependency on her wasn’t going to change.  She would sit there and force herself to remain calm, even as his leg would bump up against hers and her mind raced with the many ways in which he could still rule and be somewhat useful after she removed it.  Maybe.  There was an artery or two that she could cut and he wouldn’t bleed to death from it, though he might wish it.  Every so often, when Natasha would make a suggestion at the table and point to a place on the map he would skim his hand over hers in order to charter a certain distance or make a note about the land, enlightening her as best he could without being condescending.  Sometimes, at least.  Then, after council, when she would return to her rooms he would escort her there, ask that she visit with him in the evening so they could discuss further war tactics.  She stopped going after the first one, having hoped he’d be taking her advice seriously if he wished to speak in private.  Instead he attempted to woo her into his bed, and it took everything that she had to keep from throttling him until he died.  

“If you wish to take me somewhere then bring me to the practice ring,” she snarled.  “If you can make me yield to you there then I will yield to you in your bed.”  

She ought not to have goaded him, she thought with a scowl on her face.  Giving him hope or some semblance of an idea was the very worst, and it wasn’t long before he took her up on the offer.  They’d just come from yet another meeting, having gathered their final numbers and tallied the number of men they would be able to bring with them, where would be the better place to rest in the evenings and where they ought to attack from to start, then to finish, when he caught her by the shoulder.  The others were filing out, and though she ripped herself from his grip he beckoned her to follow him anyway.  

Though she as a subject in her father’s kingdom she could not decline it, and with a furious beat in her chest and fire in her eyes she followed him down and out of the palace, to the training rings she’d watched many of his men practice in.  More than once she’d taken her own turn in the ring against his best fighters, and more than once she found herself disappointed by how pathetic most of his soldiers were.  It was as though they’d been trained by milkmaids rather than knights and soldiers, by doting mothers who told them that their best was all that anyone could ask for rather than by a trainer who accepted nothing but perfection, and craftiness when perfection was not enough to get them out of a life or death situation.  

It was here that she was placed opposite him and watched as he removed his tunic, nimble fingers undoing the many clasps and buckles that covered his shoulders and chest to keep his cloaks and other weapons in place.  She’d yet to see him use any of them.  Doubted if he could, to be honest.  But still, she’d offer him the chance.  As he removed his knives and sword from his side so she did the same, tossing them to the corner of the ring, far from her own grip and his, though she knew she could get there far before he did if she needed to defend herself.  She certainly wasn’t afraid to.  Never again would she be at the mercy of another man, king or not.  

“You promised if I could make you yield to me in the field then you would yield to me in bed.”  He said wtih a smirk on his lips.  Was he an imbecile?  

She would assume yes, at least until proven otherwise.  “I did.”

“Then I challenge you to a match.  Three blows marks a victory?”  

That made the corners of her lips twist upwards, a laugh actually leaving her mouth at how pathetic that sounded.  “We fight until you make me yield, or I you.  There are no negotiations other than that.”  She smirked as she removed one of her over shirts, revealing the short sleeved tunic she wore underneath it.  If he’d been taken aback by the fact that she prefered to wear trousers than the skirts that the rest of the female population favored, then this positively had his eyes popping out of his sockets.  The more distracted he was, the easier it would be.

She hardly needed the extra help, as it turned out.  A king he might have been, but she was right in thinking that his true strengths did not lie in the realm of the battlefield, and her understanding of why Loki requested the help of a general on the field was made plain to her.  She whirled around him, a blur of red of her hair and the black of her clothing, until he got too dizzy to keep up, stilling in his place as he waited for her to tire herself out.  She struck him hard from behind, bringing him to his knees momentarily, affording her just a moment enough to kick him down to the ground.  Her boot sank into his gut and kept him pressed to the ground, putting just enough pressure on it as she bent down to smirk at him.  

“That’s really all you’ve got?  Perhaps if your brother was a pretty princess with a wet cunt you could win the battle against him with your sweet words and your cock.  But this?”  She shoved off him, watched his face contort with surprised pain.  “This isn’t good enough.”

“You cannot speak to me that way--.”

“I’ll speak to you however I wish,” she snapped.  She’d had enough, Loki’s bruised ego be damned.  She’d been trodden on all her life, ripped to pieces because she hadn’t been able to fight and save herself, and now that she had won, had another victory and validation of her own, she found she didn’t give a damn what Loki thought.  

He, however, seemed to be enjoying it all very much.  His cheeks were flushed and he was struggling to get up and adjust himself, but not before she caught sight of the way his trousers had tented.  So.  Either her speech about imagining his brother as a woman had gotten to him (a possibility) or for all his grandeur and the tricks he employed to try and get her into his bed, he really just wanted someone else to take control.  To lead.  

Why hadn’t he simply said so in the first place?  

She left it at that, though, for the day, retiring to her bedroom and promising him that they’d get to work on practicing his fighting skills the next day.  She was not going to put her life in jeopardy to defend and aid a king who could hardly defend himself.  

 

 


	8. 3.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, holy waiting forever for an update, right? Sorry about that, and sorry that this chapter is pretty short in comparison, but I hope it's worth it and that you enjoy it!

The training, as it turned out, took far longer than she’d intended on it taking.  Loki’s reaction the first time hadn’t been merely a fluke, and each time she bested him she’d catch sight or feel his body’s interest in her, but damn he wasn’t getting any better.  It was nearly pathetic and didn’t help them advance any further in the cause she’d been brought there for.  Though, how was he expected to get better if he was, essentially, being rewarded, she supposed?  It was as close as she would let him get to her, when she’d pin him to the ground and press the wooden staff against his throat until he choked, ignoring him almost entirely afterwards.  She wasn’t there to be friendly, she was there to help him fight.  Everything else was so menial it hardly warranted her attention.  

And yet she couldn’t fail Ivan, couldn’t allow Loki to fail because it would reflect poorly on her, and more importantly her king.  

So she pressed on.  “Again,” she’d growl at him over and over, and each time he seemed to get worse.  She hardly had any scratches on her, but Loki was quick to purple with bruises and injuries.  Nothing fatal, nothing that would keep him from fighting once more, but just enough to try and get the damn message across.  

“If you could tell me what I’ve been doing wrong, perhaps it might help me to fix my technique,” He spat after she’d floored him yet again, the butt of her training staff pressed to his throat and her boot on his chest.  She paused.  He couldn’t tell, really?  What sort of plush world had he grown up in?  When she’d been taught it had been adapt or die, no middle ground between the two.  No one taught her a blood thing, let alone held her hand through the process.  She removed the tip of her staff from where it’d pressed into his flesh.  

“And do you think your enemies will let you up and assist you, teach you how to defeat them?”  She asked, voice cold.  “Do you think Thor will give you a hand as well as the keys to his kingdom?  If you want something, you fight for it.  You take it with the edge of a sword or the tip of a spear.  You can’t afford to waste more time by waiting to get better--you improve.”

“Like you have?”  

Loki’s words come out more biting than his intended given the way his eyes widened after they’d left his lips, his ego sorely bruised not only from Natasha defeating him over and over again but, she suspected, from her constant refusal of his advancements.  Every evening he’d tried to bed her the answer had been the same.  She wasn’t interested in fucking  a man who thought himself superior without proving it, or one who considered her easy game because of the slit between her legs.  

Hell, she’d bedded women with more fight in them than Loki showed her right then.  

He stood up either way, not bothering to dust himself off, knowing he’d be back on his ass soon enough.  To his credit he at least continued to get up, even if he whined all the while.  She allowed herself a brief smile at that, her mind whirring as she calculated the weight behind his previous words, a new plan beginning to piece itself together.  His body tensed as he surveyed her, and this time Natasha called for a change in weapons.  She’d seen him with knives before, and if a staff wasn’t his best bet then perhaps the exact opposite would yield better results.  Anything would be better than the training they’d done with the sword, having only lasted a couple hours with one before she’d called for another change in weapons.  A disaster would be putting it lightly.  As he fingered the hilt of each knife, his own newly forged and gorgeous, Natasha’s battle tested and blood stained as her name, she saw something else kindle in his eyes, something akin to a plan.  She felt herself grin, her body loosening in preparation.  

“Now, you strike first,” she told him, flipping the knife in her left hand without much difficulty, familiarizing herself with its weight and length before repeating the motion with her right.  His gaze rose, narrowed with single minded determination, before rushing her. He was faster this way, she was pleased to find out, spinning out of the way and ducking to avoid the slash he directed at the back of her neck, the flat surface of her knife moving to slide against the back of his leg.  Perhaps it might’ve if he hadn’t crouched and defended that space, having anticipated the move and lashing out towards her throat with the flat of his own blade.  She blocked it, his moves far too telegraphed for her to be taken surprise by, and as she forced his hand back her head lurched forward, forehead clashing with his, dizzying him just enough to give her time to bowl him over and crouch over top him.  SHe pressed the edge of her left blade to his throat, arching her back to reach down and press the right just beside his balls.  He went very still at that, eyes widening with fear.  

“It’s always good to make sure your opponent knows you aren’t simply playing,” she told him, voice quiet before pulling herself up and off of him.  See, she was teaching him!  “That was much better, though.  You have experience fighting with knives?”  

“It’s far easier to slip a knife blade through the rips rather than a sword point,” Loki said, voice muted as he stood.  

“Yes, but far more difficult to take off a head or hand.”  She remarked, considering Loki as though this was the first time she’d seen him.  It might as well have been, her mind spinning as she reevaluated everything she’d been trying to make her way through, the training, the strategies, her battle plans.  “Though it still can be done.”  

They had a under a month before she wanted to get going and get the jump on Thor, his people’s end of harvest celebration providing the perfect cover for their siege.  

“Alright.”  She finally said.  She moved to stand opposite him, flicking the blades once more the way Ivan had shown her, long before he'd become king and lost time for her.  “Again.”  

 

_“She doesn’t have much time left if she wants to save him.  Clint’s getting worse.”_

_“She’ll get there, you need to believe in her more.”_

_“I can clap my hands and say I believe all I want but it doesn’t change that he’s going to be beyond even Loki’s help pretty soon.  Assuming he’s even willing to help --.”_

_“I can assure you my brother--.”_

_“And since when has he done a damn thing you’ve ever asked him to, really?”  Silence.  A sigh.  “Sorry, I’m just keyed up.  I want them to be okay.”_

_“Loki will owe Natasha a favor for risking her life for him.  He’s never taken to being indebted, let alone to her who’s already bested him.”_

_“So what makes you think he won’t simply kill her to ensure he doesn’t owe her?”_

_Silence again._

_“Like the good captain said, Stark: believe.”_  

 

She took Loki out to wet his blades with blood, his own scouts having reported a small band of thieves that had taken up camp on the north-most edge of his kingdom.  Perfect.  Rogues would fight dirty, would shop him just how important adapting would be.  She hoped.  If not, well, at least she’d get a better idea of where to place him for the battle.  It wouldn’t do to have the king in the Vanguard if he’d die half a minute in.  Ivan had always taken his place at the back lines, sending Natasha forward instead as he strategized the best, most efficient way to fight.  He knew his strengths and played to them.  

Besides, she had less than a week and there were too many unanswered questions for her to be as confident as usual.  

Together, Natasha and Loki headed into the forest, and Natasha taught him how to sneak up on their prey once they got close enough, the thieves having made camp in a small clearing just within the forest they’d invaded.  Their leader was nothing to be impressed with, a bow slinging idiot who liked running his mouth, it seemed, more than he had any right to.  WIth Loki at her side, she had him help scout the area out, waiting until he reported (in his opinion) the best angle to attack rom.  He wasn’t wrong, and she gave an encouraging smile at that.  Good.  If nothing else at least he seemed to have a knack for tactics. The pair waited in the full brush just to the east of the intruders encampment, Nat having found the spot for them to sit and wait for the best time.  

“Is this normally what you do?  Hunt people instead of animals?”  Loki whispered to Nat when the voices of the other men were loud enough to drown them out.  That made her grin.  

“Animals have a tendency to flee rather than to fight.  I like a victim I can look in the eye and know I’ve done my best to end them.  There’s nothing satisfying in killing a dumb beast.”

“Not sure these men ought to count as intelligent.”  

Nat’s body shook with silent laughter.  He had a point.  

They waited until the men had begun to drink, the scent of beer wafting back at the hiding pair.  She motioned that she would go first, and Loki would follow up shortly after  He could play to his strengths and set his own pace, at least to begin with.  Silent as the spider she’d been nicknamed after, Natasha pulled herself from the foliage and snuck around the left of the one guard they’d posted.  Her knife slid across his throat, bathing his front and the hand holding his mouth shut in red, warm blood.  Something within her lit up.  She’d never been born to be a witness, had always known her place was in the thick of fighting.  Death was the only sovereign she’d bow to outside of Ivan.  

To Loki's credit she hardly heard him as he crept closer to the encampment, though he didn’t pick his footing as carefully as she’d have liked. The crack of a dry twig had their quarries growing still, their eyes narrowing and the leader shouting out for the others to go and investigate, his own arrow notched and pointed in that direction.  

At least Loki had given them a distraction.  She charged without giving them time to investigate the king further.  She narrowly missed the arrow shot her way, slipping her knife into the eye socket of the nearest man before he could lift his sword, as easy as if his head had been made of butter and not human flesh and bone.  His body proved to be an excellent shield, and as she looked up she caught sight of the archer, just before Loki’s knife made it into his back, sticking him hard right in the heart.  His blue eyes blew wide, terrifyingly familiar before he collapsed, spitting up blood and the connection--whatever it was--was broken.  She didn’t know him, couldn’t have, but her gaze transfixed on him nearly cost her a slash to the thigh.  She danced out the way, whirling her body to use the man’s weight against him as she tried to strike again.  She slashed his throat open, staining her front and face with blood as he fell forward, nearly onto her.  Her next opponent materialized to her right.  She ran him through with the sword her latest victim had dropped, letting him fall back as she heard Loki dispatch another man of his own.  No prisoners, they’d decided. Loki needed to learn that death came first, diplomacy an option only when the men had already been expended or the land was worth something.  

Even then, it was easier to rebuild than to try and change the mind of a people, particularly when soldiers were left to live.  

She took that moment to look back at Loki, pleased to see him pulling his knife out from inside his latest victim, watched it fall to the ground, the others already bleeding out on the ground.  She dipped her head at him, not missing the way his eyes widened in--surprise?  Attraction?--as he stared at her blood-covered self.  She wiped the blades of her knives on the trousers of the nearest body, before removing the sword’s harness and tightening the belt around her waist.  She rather liked it.  

“Good work.  Now, we need to get back and finish planning.  I want to leave before the week is out,” she told Loki, eyes brokering no other option.  He nodded, sheathing his own weapons and--.

Not even she had seen the knife before it struck him right in the back of the head, sticking in the bone with ease.  They’d missed one rogue, one who was apparently just as good at throwing knives as Loki, and her eyes widened in terror.  

 

 _“NO!”_  

 

Natasha sat up with a roar on her bed, gasping for air as her heart pounding so fast in her chest it was a damn miracle it didn’t burst through, blinking hard to try and finish waking herself up, rubbing at her eyes and feeling the pull on the IVs in her arms.  

“Hey, Nat, relax.”  Steve’s voice at her side said, one large hand reaching out to rub at her back.  

“Loki?”  Thor was shouting just beside them.  “Loki--you’re fine, you’re safe.  Listen to me.”  

She barely managed to open her eyes to look just to the other side of them, Loki’s body convulsing as his hands fisted and his mouth opened in a silent, pained scream given the way his whole face had tensed him.  His back arched, as though in ecstasy, before he went suddenly limp and the computer monitoring his vitals whistled a shrill, monotone beep.  

 

 


	9. Finale

Nat had situated herself between the two men in their mock infirmary, her fingers threaded with Clint’s, but her eyes just as intently fixed on the slow, shallow rise and fall of Loki’s chest, her mouth dry.  It’d only been a few hours since he’d flatlined and Thor had cracked a hole in the ceiling, calling down the lightning to bring him back once the defibrillator had failed.  Nat rubbed at her cheeks with her one free hand, unsure if she’d been imagining the tears dripping down her face or not.  She’d been crying--actually crying, dammit all--for so long even when she wasn’t it felt as though she was.  

Clint wasn’t getting better, and Loki was supposed to fix that.  Loki, who’d fucked her in an airplane and chased her through a nightclub after keeping her prisoner, who’d bested her in the battlefield while she’d lorded over him in bed, who’d taken a knife through the fucking head because she’d been so damn _stupid_ \--.  She shook her head, freeing herself from her thoughts.  She couldn’t concentrate on that, not now.  The image of the blood running down his face, the terror that had followed, words choked from her throat.  Well.  He’d come back from all of it, everything before, always with a laugh and puff of smoke that had once infuriated her so much she’d come to count on it.  He had to come back, had to fix Clint, breathe life into her partner and, well, he just had to come back.  She needed him to.  

With slow, tentative fingers, she reached to take his hand as well, not sure what she was doing only that she was out of her depth, grasping at whatever mad ideas popped into her head.  Maybe she’d just been watching too many of Stark’s Disney movies at 3 AM when she and the tinkerer shared sleepless nights, her past and his nightmares of the future kept at bay by the technicolor song and dance of happier times.  

And if magic existed, enough to have put Loki under this bloody spell or curse or whatever, why couldn’t it work in her favor for once?  It wouldn’t kill the universe to actually help her out, would it?  No, she didn’t think so.  

“Jarvis, seal the room?”  She murmured.  “Turn off cameras twenty-seven through nine, authorization Charlie Alpha Seven One One.’  

“Area secure, madam,” the AI assured after the comforting click of locks on the doors echoed in her skull and chest.  “Might I assist you?”  

“No, I just don’t want anyone else to see how stupid this might be,” she muttered.  Her hand released Clint’s with a hesitance she only ever found off the field, turning her body to face Loki.  She breathed deeply, fingers stretching to curve along the edge of his face, so familiar to her now .  They caught in his hair, taking and threading it around her fingers, holding the side of his face as tenderly as she could.  

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she murmured, the affection in her voice startling even her.  “But Loki, I need you.  I know you now, know the darkness of your heart and soul and was at the mercy of them.  You don’t scare me, you don’t haunt me as you once did.  I know you, Loki.  Know your envy and have seen your fury, tested your patience and mettle.  I’ve put my life on the line to escape you as fast as my legs could carry me, witnessed your obsession and less than savory tactics.”  Her mouth went dry again, parched for water as the words kept tumbling out.  “But I need you.  Despite what I’ve been through, what hellish dreams your mind created, I need you.  Not just for Clint, though I’d really love if it you’d wake up already and save him, you ass.  But,” she swallowed thickly.  “I need you because I want you.  Around.  And I’m pretty sure you want me to do the same.”  She hoped.  This might work if he did.  He didn’t stir with her words and she blinked back tears of frustration that cut into her vision.  “Dammit you’re an asshole.”  She muttered, voice thick, before she leaned in to press her lips to his chilled ones, tipping his chin upwards to get a better angle.  His skin was Russia cold and just as white as the shows that covered the training yards of the Red Room half a week into October.  His cheeks were covered in her tears when she pulled away, body still unmoving, eyes closed, and she tried not to shout with her frustration, body trembling, biting on her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.  She didn’t bear herself like that.  Ever.  She was the fixed point, the wall that still stood while everything crumbled around her, ever changing her face but never toppling.  Compromised, that’s what she’d called it when he’d first gotten under her skin.  It didn’t seem strong enough a word anymore.  

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, turning to pull away, wondering just how hard it would be to track down the asshat who’d done this and turn them into her personal knife block.  A weak hand on her wrist stopped her from pulling away, clammy fingers tightening as much as they could.  She barely dared to hope, eyes still turned away.  If she looked it might have turned out to be her imagination and she didn’t think she could take that disappointment.  

“Come back and try that again,” a voice rasped.  “I don’t think it worked completely.”

The fist she’d intended to collide with his face caught instead on his shirt collar, pulling him up and into her arms, her whole body trembling, tumbling out of her control as she held him tight.  He barely squeezed out a laugh.  

“Agent Romanov, I never knew you cared--.”  

“Shut up,” she muttered into his chest.  “Just don’t.  Not now.”

Maybe he’d learned something after all, she wondered, as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close as he could manage.  

 

Weak though he might’ve been, he managed to figure out what was wrong with Clint in a matter of minutes, the color still pale in his cheeks as he made quick demands of Thor to bring him an assortment of items he’d need from Asgard in order to heal him.  Nat sat beside him, not moving, just watching as Thor nodded and disappeared to the helipad to call Heimdall.  Tony had long since demanded that he “take his stupid rainbow tractor beam outside and stop messing up my house,” and Thor was only too understanding and considerate to do just that.  Bruce and Tony, in the mean time, came to keep an eye on Loki and Clint, not wanting to miss anything and make sure that Loki didn’t end up slipping back into another coma.  He had his uses, after all, and if he ended up pulling off fixing Clint then they’d at least have one reason to be grateful.  Steve made the call to Fury, letting him know that the trickster was, indeed, awake once more, but that they were keeping him under lock and key.  An exaggeration, but Nat didn’t anticipate the god doing anything especially dastardos, not while he was that weak.  

Afterwards?  Well, no one ever knew with him, did they?  

He kept the conversation light between himself and the other men, never once bringing up what happened between he and Natasha though she’d thought that he’d reference it at the first opportunity, hold it above her head at how pathetic and paltry her attempts had been.  She wasn’t sure how much he’d heard, but she could only guess he’d at least caught the tail end of it judging by the glances he kept shooting her way when he thought the others weren’t looking.  He looked nearly frightened every time he turned to her, as though anticipating she’d vanish into smoke the minute he turned away again.  

She didn’t want to admit to herself that she was feeling the same way, and only when she’d nearly given herself whiplash, turning her head so sharply to stare at him when he’d so much as shifted out of her peripheral vision, she reasoned that it was simply because she didn’t want Clint to be left at such a disadvantage again.  

True to his word, Thor appeared half an hour or so later, and just in time.  Clint’s color had worsened, and they were pumping him full of epinephrine to keep his heart from going flat as Loki’s had.  The toxin he’d come into contact with might’ve been slow moving before, but now it went for the kill, the shark circling its bleeding prey in the water, attacking only when they were weakest.

As Loki got to his feet, swaying ever so slightly, Nat shifted to move into bed with Clint, holding his head in her lap as Loki instructed her to keep him still no matter what the cost.  

“Got it,” she muttered, not voicing her questions at just what Loki would have to do in order to take the poison out.  They stripped him of his shirt after taking out the needles and sensors connecting him to Tony’s machines, Nat’s heart jolting when she heard the heart monitor flatline, forcing herself to remember it was only because they took the sensor off, that he wasn’t actually dead.  She focused on the rise and fall of his chest to make damn sure of it.  

Loki gripped the ceremonial dagger that Thor had brought him with apprehension in his eyes, as though bad memories were affixed to that blade, and Nat barely kept herself from shouting as Loki drove it into Clint’s chest.  The archer’s eyes shot open and he shouted in agony, thrashing and staring up at Nat, who struggled to keep from doing the same.  

“Clint--Clint it’s me.  It’s Natasha--focus on me,” she said quickly, holding so tight to his jaw she was afraid she might break it, or he might as he writhed and tried to pull away.  Loki, meanwhile, hummed and chanted in a language that escaped even Natasha, pulling out the blade and using the blood to paint symbols that went over Nat’s head on Clint’s bare skin.  The archer stared up at her, tears pouring down the sides of his face.  

“Fuck-- _Nat_ \--hurts so bad,” he babbled, trying to clench his jaw as Loki’s fingers prodded at the wound again, this time sticking thick petal herbs to the wound that made him hiss and screw up his face.  “Dammit make it stop--PLEASE!”  His voice broke on the last word.  His fists were white and seemed as though they might lash out at Loki at any time.  She took his hands in hers, squeezing them tight.  

“Clint, eyes on me, c’mon.  You’ve had worse than this, and it’s going to get better,” she promised.  She’d always been so good at lying that telling something that might be true?  It felt foreign on her tongue, but babble on she did, even as he screamed when Loki pressed--hard--on the wound.  Blood seeped from beneath the petal, from between Loki’s fingertips, and still Nat did everything she could to talk Clint down from lashing out, promising him it would all be over soon.  

He was pale faced and trembling by the time Loki fixed, holding the bloodied hand out for a thick stone just to his left, removing the now blackened petal from where it’d covered Barton’s wound and replacing it instead with the dust and crushed pieces of the stone as it disintegrated in his hands.  Clint’s breathing began to level out, the lines in his face smoothing, as he stared down with Natasha at where the bloody gash had once been.  

It was all over in a matter of minutes, though it’d felt like hours.  

“Can I get a couple dozen boxes of those?”  Tony asked, white lipped and wide eyed, from the side of the room, Thor’s hands on his shoulders to keep him from rushing forward while Bruce had seen himself out before it had even began.  Smart.

Loki’s laugh was tense, even as his body shook with it, depositing the blackened leaf onto a petri dish that Tony rushed closer to provide.  He wanted to study the toxin, find a “less Game of Thronesy” way of curing it.  They couldn’t exactly cut people every time an agent came back with a wound and report like Barton did.  

Nat smoothed Clint’s hair as the two men talked over the logistics of developing a serum to treat it, going over just how Clint had gotten into the position that’d gotten him poisoned in the first place, and who Loki and Thor might’ve known that could have done something like that.  Thor came up behind his brother and patted him on the shoulder, smiling.  

“I am glad to have you back, Loki.”  

The trickster’s eyes shot over to Nat, whose gaze rose with the words.  

“Glad to be back, Thor,” the dark haired man said in earnest, and exhausted though he might’ve been, Nat didn’t miss just how much lighter he looked.  Better.  If she’d felt the psychological backlash from having been inside his head, poking around his darkest fantasies and dreams, then what the hell did he feel?  

 

Loki returned to Asgard later in the week, explaining he had much to explain to Frigga and Odin, as well as a sorceress to hunt down, and Nat refused to be present as he and Thor called for the Bifrost and disappeared in a rumble that shook the tower and a flash of rainbow light that she didn’t have to see to know swallowed them up.  No, she concentrated instead on sinking her fists into the targets in front of her, fingers already numbed from having squeezed off more rounds than she liked to think.  They hadn’t had two seconds together to talk about what had happened, Thor eager to make amends with his brother and Nat seeing that Clint’s recovery was going well enough.  At present he and Phil were talking in his room, Jarvis reported in between rounds with the training dummies, and his vitals and everything else was fine, as if the poison had never been there in the first place.  It was more than she could’ve asked for, so why did she still feel so heavy?  

 

Time passed.  SHIELD fell to shambles after the assassination attempt on Fury’s life left them all reeling from the truth about the agency, and as the cinders of what had once been her home still burned Natasha took herself off the grid, falling into the cracks and disappearing.  She told herself it was for everyone else’s good, including her own.  Without a cover she was too much a target, and she’d be damned to put everyone else in harm’s way like that.  

 

She’d always had a soft spot for the midwest.  Nothing ever happened there outside a freak tornado or two, and there weren’t any major corporations to worry about infiltrating, or who had already done it and needed to be eradicated.  It was peaceful.  Easy.  Boring at sometimes, but no one ever went from a life of active duty to retirement without having a few off days.  Nat had curled up in bed, a book in hand and one hand stroking the soft black fur of Liho, her newest companion, when she felt the air shift.  It was enough to make her tense, even if Liho didn’t feel it, and though she still turned the page of the book all the same she simply stared at the words in front of her, trying to cast out and feel around to see what it was that had shifted.  She’d installed a strong alarm system on the apartment, and more than that had left an assortment of traps just in case someone come to find her.  Whoever it was wouldn’t be secret for long, and from there she’d reach for the gun taped just to the back of the headboard and--.  

“Aren’t you done with that one yet?  It only took me a day to blow through the whole collection.”  

Months later and she still shivered at the sound of his voice, setting the book down as she turned to stare at the god standing in front of her, a pleased smile on his lips and arms folded behind his back at the wrist.  The last time she’d seen him like that he’d been behind four inches of solid glass, grinning at her as she sat to tell him her sad, sad story.  Now?  

“Could’ve called like a normal person,” she said, relaxing just enough to make it seem like she was at ease as she stared at him.  “Or knocked.”

“It’s raining, how do you say, cats and dogs outside,” he said with a soft laugh, and she went immediately tense once more as he took a seat beside her.  “Besides.  Surprise.”  

“I hate surprises.”  She murmured, watching as one of his hands leaned over to touch hers.  The chill of his skin had nothing to do with those racing up her back at his touch, or the way heat blossomed between her legs.  It’d been a very, very long time indeed, and she squeezed her thighs together to keep it from getting worse.  She was out of practice.  

“Thought you might make an exception for me,” he said, shifting closer, tongue peeking out to skate over his bottom lip, grabbing her attention and making her flush when he caught her looking.  

Really out of practice.  

“Depends.  Are you going to disappear on me again?”  

“Not unless you ask me to,” he said, and his eyes had a flash of truth about them.  Even she could tell that.  He’d been shit at lying to her anyway.  

“Are you going to kiss me, then?”  She asked, tipping her head to one side, an eyebrow raised expectantly.   His lips parted in a wide grin, devoid of the malice she’d come to associate with the look, eyes lighting up.  

“Only if you ask me to.”  

“You’re really going to make a lady ask?”  Natasha asked with a laugh on her lips.  “And here I thought you Asgardians were supposed to be chivalrous.”  

“If you were a lady it would be different--.”

“Wow.  Nicely done--.”

“But if you’ll be _my_ lady,” he cut her off, fingers finding hers and squeezing them so familiarly it made her chest ache.  “Then I’ll only make you ask the once.”  He leaned in as he spoke, lips so close to brushing against hers she didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until her chest began to ache.  “What will it be, Natasha?”  

“The dream bullshit must’ve _really_ done a number on you, huh?”  

“That’s not an answer,” he said, looking up at her through his lashes.  She could taste mint on his breath.  Her mouth watered.  

“Loki.”  

“Mm?”

“Just kiss me, dammit.”  

His grin tasted better than she could’ve imagined, and oh, had she imagined quite a bit when it came to him.  They’d spent so much time outside of reality it was about time she got something tangible.  Something real.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends! Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks so much for reading! You guys have all been incredible when it comes to keeping up with the story, and I am so glad to have been able to get all these ideas out. Thanks again!


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